Child Of The Snows
by Ferret1
Summary: Logan is sent to find an elusive mutant, when he would rather be sorting out his personal life...rating changed cos it ain't as bad as I thought it was going to be!! *Now Complete*
1. Hell In A Handbasket

****

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!!

On with the show……..

Chapter 1

Hell In A Handbasket

Logan was in a bad mood. Not just a bit of a grump, but a hellish, black, furious sort of a temper that made him want to break something. Or someone. Here he was, back in his native Canada, about to head back up into the lonely wilderness that was the mountains, and was it by choice?

Fuck, no.

Angry and tired, he'd gone back to the mansion after two years of desperate searching that had led him precisely nowhere. Chuck had made him welcome, and bade him make himself at home; it was when he tried to do so that he got the first of several nasty shocks. He'd discovered Jean and Scott married; bad enough in itself, but when she told him that his flirting disgusted her now that she was a committed, married woman he'd had to go and sulk in the woods for a week.

Marie was all grown up into a stunning vision of loveliness and poise, and had control of her mutation beautifully. So what had happened when he'd crawled back to her for sympathy, and accidentally let on how she turned him on, and how he longed – and _lusted_ – for them to be together?

She'd thrown him out of her room, with a fine display of bad language that he could only hope came from his own memories and not from what she'd picked up around the group. She thought of him as a big brother figure, apparently, and had been utterly freaked out when he had made his admission.

"Ah thought you were mah friend, Logan" she'd sobbed, surrounded by a rapidly accumulating group of friends giving him the hairy eyeball, "An' all you can do is act like a dirty old man. Ah'm shocked….."

Another week in the woods. Ororo had finally talked him into coming back inside, and even joining them on a few missions; it had helped relieve the tension somewhat. Marie had broken up with her boyfriend, and – joy of joys – turned to him for comfort. He had been very, very careful to keep it platonic; it seemed to be working, as he had caught her looking at him in a decidedly un-brotherly way a few times.

Give me a week, he'd thought to himself craftily, and then she's as mine as I am hers.

Four days after that, the professor had called him in and explained that he had a mission which could keep him away for months; in Canada, up in the mountains, trying to find a mutant up there that he had detected with cerebro but only faintly, sporadically… so would Logan go?

Before he knew what had happened, he'd agreed and was packing up the brand new SUV that Xavier had lent him. Marie was cool about it, but he was beginning to fret even before he'd left. There was a new mutant not long arrived – a Cajun with the most weird-ass eyes – who always spoke of himself in the third person and had made a beeline for the most attractive young woman in the place. 

Marie, his Marie.

So what could he do? Move too fast on his girl and frighten her, or (even worse) hurt her? Refuse to go on the mission and bring himself down in everyone's eyes? Kill the young Cajun? 

Tempting as that was, he knew it wasn't feasible. So he did the only thing he could: he got in the truck, and drove north.

The further he got, the worse he felt about the whole situation, the more vivid his imaginings grew, and the worse got his mood. By the time he had almost reached his target, he wasn't feeling very friendly _at all._

Logan? asked a quiet voice in the space behind his eyes.

"FFFFF – Shit!" Logan shouted, as he was torn away from his bad black meanderings by the gentle voice of the professor. The SUV veered across the road and had to be wrestled back to something approaching good behaviour by main force, and a good deal of blistering swearing.

"_What?"_ he roared.

Shouting at me won't help

Logan scowled. Screw you, wheels, he thought sullenly.

Better. There was a hint of an indulgent smile in the soft mental voice. I just contacted you to inform you that you have arrived in the area we discussed. There is a small bar some mile or so ahead where you can leave the vehicle

So I can go freeze my ass off in the mountains, right?

You are the only one of us who can accomplish this mission, and you know it

You should've sent scooter. Then we'd all be free of him, right? So I can make a move on his – 

Behave yourself

"Well, fuck" smiled Logan mildly. He'd managed to irritate the professor at last. Score one to the Canuck.

Contact us as soon as you know something

"Yeah. One more thing, though, Chuck?"

Yes?

"Wouldja please knock first next time?"

Mental feel of an exasperated exhalation, making the feral man grin.

I will try. Good luck, Logan

"Yeah, yeah…." He muttered, chewing a little harder on his cigar and swinging in to the car park of the small, beat up establishment that he'd been looking for. Time for a drink, then off up into the mountains.

To freeze his ass off.


	2. Long Way From Home

****

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is (the second chapter of) my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

On with the show……..

Chapter 2

Long Way From Home

The bar was like a million others he'd been in over the years; grubby, smoke stained, and smelling strongly of stale sweat and beer. Very familiar. He felt his shoulders relax a little, even as he spotted the cage in the corner.

Ha! If this dumbass 'mission' was as big a waste of his time as he thought it might be, then he could at least work off some frustrations and make a little money before he rolled on back home.

Home? He paused. When had he started to think of Westchester as 'home'? Seeing the tired looking woman behind the bar raise an eyebrow at him, he decided to file that thought away for later perusal, moved up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Some gruff questions established that the rumpled bottle - blonde behind the bar did indeed co-own the place, and that the cage was in use twice a week, Fridays and Saturdays. All comers, apparently, even little guys like him.

Logan grinned wolfishly around his cigar and made no comment. Then he broached his next subject.

"Mind if I leave the vehicle here?"

The woman leaned on her side of the bar and ran her eyes over him.

"Do as you please. No guarantee it'll still be here when you come back though."

He slid a hundred dollar bill over the sticky bar, noting with some amusement the speed with which it disappeared.

"That make a difference?"

"It'll be here."

"I'll be in the mountains for a week or so - maybe longer."

The woman shook her head, then snorted in derision.

"Goin' after the dire wolf, are you? Shit, you won't last a day out there. Can I sell your truck if you ain't back by spring?"

Logan sat up sharply. Perhaps this woman knew something useful after all. God only knows what she was referring to; she'd pronounced it 'dy-arrr ulf' and he'd sure as shit never heard of one of those. Hoping to draw her out, he leaned a little closer and gave her a smouldering look - the one that Marie said would make an angel strip and fling herself at his feet (although she hadn't yet) - pushed another fifty across the bar, and said that maybe he was, and then again maybe he wasn't.

His look got the desired result. The woman slid up to him, wiggling her hips in a manner he supposed she thought was seductive, and breathed into his face a mix of whiskey, halitosis and stale tobacco.

"Well, we've had all sorts up here hunting it. Some say it don't exist, some say it's a gov'ment experiment gone wrong, or a rogue wolf, or a ghost…" she paused, looking him up and down and licking her lips, "but what sort of wolf slashes tyres and scatters ammo? And a ghost don't trip some traps, then sets it's own."

"So what's your theory, darlin'?" Damn, but the smell of her was beginning to turn his stomach. Staleness and rot, with undercurrents of arousal spiced with too much cheap perfume and hair dye. Vile.

"Reckon it's one o' they mutant things. If it is, then I just hope someone shoots the damn thing - I'd pay big to have it's head on the wall. Just over the bar, where all us humans can see it! So, what do you think, sweet stuff?"

Logan just smiled at her. It was, he figured, probably better than punching her in the face.

"So," he almost purred, "d'you know where it was last seen? If it's mutant, it should be close, huh?"

"Nah. Last thing I heard, it was forty miles west of here, place called Bear Lake. Can't get there in the winter so I 'spect someone'll find it's bones in the spring"

Don't bet on it, Logan thought sourly. Those mutants can be tricky damn things, always turnin' up where you least expect them. He swung to his feet, grabbed his bag and gave her a much forced smile. 

"Gotta be goin'. See you in a couple of weeks, OK?"

Her disappointment was palpable. She pouted painted lips at him and asked if he wouldn't rather start in the morning, after a good nights …sleep?

He shook his head, and turned to go - 

"Hey!"

He turned back, framed in the doorway.

"Don't forget you promised me it's head!"

Keep walking Logan, he told himself. Get your gear, and just _go_. Before your temper gets out of control and you do something really, really stupid. Like torch the damn place.

He stamped back to the truck, and began to sort his gear out. Attitudes like hers wouldn't have bothered him much, until he met Rogue and became tangled up with the X-Men. After all, all he had to do was keep his head down and no-one need know that he was…different. And now? 

"Regular little crusader, huh?" he muttered to himself gloomily. Taking his bearings and looking up in the direction he had to go, he decided to try and elicit a little extra help. He took a deep breath, and mentally yelled as loud as he could - HEY! WHEELS!

Logan. There is no need to shout

He snorted, and set off into the snow, figuring he might as well walk while he got his helping hand.

Any idea where this thing is now?

I'll look. But the last glimpse of it I got, it was heading more or less in your direction. But, Logan……..

What? 

He could sense a reluctance in Xavier's voice, as though the man was struggling to decide whether to impart the next piece of information.

…I hesitate to use the word insane, but the mind I have touched seems very…unstable. Be careful, Logan, please

Well, he thought, that's just perfect. Out of contact with just about everything and everyone, hunting a possible mutant with totally unknown powers, probably insane, almost certainly very dangerous, who'd been hunted all summer and autumn, and would be trying to avoid him in some of the most difficult terrain on the planet. 

This assignment just got better and better.

He put his head down and slogged on, grinning.


	3. Now You See Me...

****

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

****

Soundtrack: I listened to the Nickleback album 'Silver Side Up' continually whilst writing this.

On with the show……..

Chapter 3

Now You See Me…

He had to admit, beautiful as it was up here, it was sure cold. Good job it was him up here and none of the others; with the _possible _exception of 'Ro, they would all be bitchin', moanin', and probably droppin' dead of hypothermia. Not that that wasn't a nice mental image at times, but it would sure as hell have slowed him down. And he was making little enough progress as it was.

Sure, he thought he'd made contact; trouble was, the contactee was having absolutely none of it. And whatever he, she, or it was, it was skilled enough at woodcraft to keep just clear of the wolverine, and that made him mad. It had gone from being a simple assignment - albeit a bit more awkward than he would like to admit - to a matter of professional pride. He had made up his mind. This thing _would not _get away from him.

He sighed, and tossed another stick of wood on to his small fire. He would rest for another couple of hours, then start up before dawn. Unless…….

He sat up sharply, and took another sniff. What the ……?

Something was definitely out there. Not a wolf, not a bear, not a person… something else. But where? This, he decided, was it. He'd had enough. No more running around. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He _was _going to find this thing, and he _was_ going to kick its ass. Time for him to let the animal inside out to earn it's damn keep…

He moved silently into the trees, away from the small camp, and followed his nose. Oh, this thing was _clever_; it had approached the camp from a very roundabout route, leaving confusing tracks and scent clues. A lesser tracker than he wouldn't even have realised it had been there. He circled a little closer, moving more quietly than the wind sighing through the trees, and to his amazement - he had expected several hours of this - got his first good look at this thing.

It looked a little like a wolf, but not quite; from what he could see, the face was longer and more pointed, similar to that of a Borzoi he had seen once. The shoulders were powerful, just a hair off being bulky; it appeared that the hind legs, whilst being as long as the front ones, were slightly less heavily muscled. Indeed, he could easily believe it was a creature from the dawn of time; a time wilder and more dangerous than their own. It possessed enough hair over the neck and shoulders to be described as a mane; silver and black, it rippled slightly in the breeze, drifting it's own musky scent back to Logan's nostrils. Female, he decided, curious, and very dangerous. 

She was crouched at the edge of the clearing, seemingly fascinated by his fire; did he attack, or try to communicate? Tie her up, or rip her to shreds? Was she animal, or human?

Whatthehell.

He bunched his muscles, balanced himself, and leapt. To his surprise, the creature simply sidestepped, letting him crash to the ground in a heap. She then went around the other side of the fire and sat down, regarding him with a look of amusement in her cold grey eyes.

__

Shit. The damn thing knew I was coming! Knew I was there all along! _Fuck._

He pulled himself up, shook off the snow, and glared at the creature. He knew the direct stare and aggressive stance would bother it; it was a dominance thing. Sure enough, the look of amusement dropped from those eyes, and a low growl began to rumble from the powerful chest. Logan spread his arms, grinned, and issued his challenge.

**__**

Snikt!

"Come on then. No more fuckin' around. I win, you come with me. You win, I leave. Got that?"

To his surprise, the beast nodded it's head twice, got up, and tensed to spring.

So it understands me, huh? This could be interesting….

She moved first. Her leap took her straight towards her adversary, and although he dodged it easily she came frighteningly close to drawing first blood. She pulled herself round, and they continued circling - eyes never leaving each other. Wary as Logan was, he almost missed her next move; a swift feint to the left followed by a drive to his right. It might have worked, and torn his flank open; as it was, he twisted and closed with her, claws out and teeth bared.

They grappled on the ground briefly, each trying for a position which would allow them to hurt the other; she sprang away from him with a scream when he managed to get his claws to rake along her sides. Her cry was not alone, however; in breaking his hold and escaping from him she had used her powerful hind legs to shove him into his fire. Logan roared with the pain of the burn even as he rolled to his feet and fixed his opponent with his most challenging glare.

"First blood, bitch" he snarled. 

Only heart's blood counts came the defiant answer into his mind.

"Oh, you can talk, huh?" they were continuing to circle. Logan noticed, in the scattered and flickering firelight, that the horrible gash he'd inflicted was healing already. Figures, he thought sourly, another damn healing factor. So now what? She was showing a distinct reluctance to close with him again, but wasn't about to back down; he knew this would go on until one of them had _definitely _lost…unless…well, he supposed he had to try.

He straightened up, withdrew his claws, and held out his hands palm forward in the traditional 'I am unarmed' gesture.

"Why don't you give up now? Just surrender, and we can sort this whole damn situation out like civilised creatures-"

He got no further. Uttering a noise which sounded suspiciously like a derisive snort, she flung herself forward and closed with him again. Unlike any human fight, he had to watch not only for limbs, but teeth as well; she tagged his face several times and even once managed to get tight hold of his shoulder, shaking and tearing like a dog with a bone. But then she yelped and let go; Logan had heard a crack an instant before the yell - must have broken a tooth on the adamantium, he thought wryly, bet that hurts like a bitch - and took advantage to try and pin his opponent to the forest floor. She flung him off, that time; but he could tell that she was tiring now, and all it would take would be one mistake - 

She made it, and in a flash he had her held fast to the ground, one claw either side of her throat and the middle one just scratching the skin. She struggled faintly, but a growl from the throat of the wolverine and a further dig from his claws were all the warning to lie still that she needed. They lay there in silence for a few minutes, breathing hard, waiting for tired healing factors to catch up with the vicious wounds inflicted by the fight.

Go on then came a bitter thought.

"What?" 

Kill me The beast closed her eyes and relaxed.

"No!" Logan eased up on her, retracting his claws and staring down, somewhat aghast, "or at least…not until I know a bit more about you"

Watch, then

To his horror, the shape underneath him began to _change_ - it wasn't so much the sight of the features running like wax, or the hair snaking itself back under the skin that turned his stomach; it was the sounds of gristle crunching and the crack and slush of bone and flesh rearranging themselves that did it.

Suddenly, he found himself lying on top of a young woman. A _naked_ young woman. A damned attractive naked young woman at that, from what he could see, and feel beneath his own body. A body which, he noted with a certain detachment, was beginning also to notice the amount of warm, naked female flesh it was pressed against.

"You win" she said dully, clearly resigning herself to whatever he was going to do to her. She appeared only mildly surprised when that was to roll off her and sit up, staring.

"Sort the fire out" he snapped, suddenly feeling absurdly lost. After all, she looked how old? Eighteen? Twenty? What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Go to hell" She was crouched about four feet away from him, arms wrapped around her knees and glaring at him sullenly.

"DO it!" he shouted, expecting at the very least a fierce argument. To his surprise, she dropped her head, flicked him a look, and did as she was told. A small light flickered on in his brain; he had beaten her, so that made him the alpha male. She would do whatever he told her to. So now all he had to do was find out who she was, how she got there, if she _was _what he had been sent to find, then get her all the way back to Westchester without being discovered, or her escaping, or turning on him…and they were still forty miles from nowhere. She had no clothing, and a creature like her other form could _not_, he realised, be passed off as a pet. He looked across at her again, wrapped up in herself by the fire, rocking gently, with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

Oh brother.

This mission couldn't get any worse.

Could it?


	4. Wild Thing

****

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

Thanks to those luvverly people who have reviewed! Sorry if this looks a bit spread out, but I just loathe seeing words all scrunched up together, don't you?!

On with the show!

******

Chap 4

*

Wild Thing

*

"You hungry?"

A shake of the head. No.

"Thirsty?"

Another negative.

A pregnant pause.

Logan was getting annoyed. He hadn't touched the…the…whatever she was (Woman? Kid? Animal?) all night, just sat and watched her. He had assumed that now she was beaten and he was - quite clearly - the boss, she would start to talk to him. That was the way it went, right?

Apparently not. All she'd done, all night, was wrap herself into a ball, rock slowly, and moan occasionally. Logan had heard that cry before.

He had found a bobcat, once, in a trap. The trapper had clearly not bothered to check his line for a few days, as the animal's broken and torn leg was swollen and green with rot; it had made that same lost moan when it had spied him. The noise that had a very clear meaning for the feral man; it said - I'm stuck, I'm going to die, and I am _afraid_. Nature is rarely cruel; whilst death is not always kind, it is usually quick, and there is always a chance for the hunted. To see unnatural misery like that of the cat had made Logan angry, and ashamed; it was not his trap, but he was the same species as the trapper. At least he had been able to end the animal's suffering cleanly; then cleared every trap in the area, destroyed them, and lain in wait for the trapper to make him _very sorry_ for what he had done. But this time, it was even worse.

Because it was he that was causing the terrible agony.

"Well…" he stopped, nonplussed, "…what do ya want, then?"

Another moan, and then some words:

"Let me go. Please…"

Only one thing to do then. Admit that this was way out of his league, and contact the only person on the planet that he trusted not to tell anyone else that the fearsome Wolverine had been forced to yell for help. Deep mental breath. WHEELS!

Logan, do you know what time it is?

No, and I don't care.

I see you were successful

Yeah, that's the problem. Any advice? She's sufferin', Chuck, and I can't stand it.

Let me try

Logan watched his captive with interest as Xavier tried to make contact. He was clearly successful, as she stopped moaning, tilted her head, and gave a frown; she also assumed that far-away look that he had learned to recognise as the trademark of intentional voices in the head.

Logan?

He realised that the - oh hell, he had to call her _something - _the thing (bad choice, bub) was staring at him, an expression of great curiosity on her face. It was obvious that Chuck had indeed got through.

Yeah?

I've managed to persuade her that you are not the enemy. But I can do no more until you get her here

Well, that helps. A bit. 

Be careful, Logan. She could still be very, very, dangerous

"Tell me something I don't know" he sighed. At the sound of his voice, the girl flinched, but soon returned to her covert study of his face. OK Wolverine, he thought gloomily, time to make nice.

"What's your name?"

She thought about this for a minute.

"Smoke"

"What, you want one?" A shake of the head. 

"Your name, right?" A nod, and the briefest glint of sharp teeth in a ghost of a smile. Take it steady, man, and don't scare her.

"How old are you?" Nice and uncommittal, laid back and cool. Good going.

Another frown. Logan waited, praying he hadn't blown it. He hadn't.

"Escaped…fifteen. Since?" She shrugged.

"How long out here, girl? How many winters?" He was torn between being pleased that he was finally getting through to her, and a creeping sense of horror that she had possibly run from something as horrible as he had. At fifteen. 

She looked at the trees, frowned at the snow, stared at her fingers, and finally gave a decisive snort.

"Four."

Oh. God. She'd been surviving out here for at least four years, living as an animal, no human contact at all - except for men who periodically tried to kill her. No wonder she's crazy, he thought grimly, I would be too. Anyone would. 

He stood up and gathered together the few things he had brought. Time for the big question. He held out his hand towards her.

"You comin' then?"

The look on her face segued to one of sheer panic. Shit-_fire!_ He mentally berated himself. Blown it! And we were doing so well, too.

She suddenly sprang upright, flung her arms wide - giving him a magnificent view of her still naked body - looked him straight in the eye, and spoke the longest coherent sentence he had heard from her so far.

"Like _this? _Are you _nuts?_"

She had a point. He took a moment to run appreciative eyes over the display before him. Not tall, but broad in the shoulder and hip. Breasts high, not too large, but not small either; the thought of what they would look like when encased in satin was enough to make his mouth water. No spare flesh; he guessed that the hunting around here had been pretty lean this winter; still, she had curves in all the right places and would probably polish up _real _well. Pneumatic. (The thought made him smile - him in a tux, with this curvaceous wild thing on one arm and tall, sexy Marie on the other. Damn!)

Long hair, tangled and dirty, but so black it seemed blue; odd that, as the rest of her body hair was white. It suddenly struck him that it was like her animal coat; short, thick white undercoat, with long black guard hairs. This girl just got weirder the closer he looked! He couldn't help being a little stirred by the sight, mind you; a small rumble escaped his chest as he stared. Her enhanced scent and hearing undoubtedly picked this up, as she dropped her eyes coquettishly and answered him with a small growl of her own.

Oh boy. Best get out of here before things get _way _too complicated for this boy….

"Well, how, then?" he asked, hoping to get the subject back to where it started. She stared at him, seemingly a little disappointed. Then she smiled briefly, and said -

"Four legs good. Two legs bad."

Oh. I get it, he thought dismally. Gorgeous, crazy, and well read. Jesus.

"Come on then…hope you can keep up." He turned away and set off back in the direction he had left his truck; as much so he didn't have to watch the transformation as to make time. A dark shape ghosted up along side him.

Keep up. Hah!

Mission almost accomplished, he thought as the pair of them set what would be - for ordinary humans - a killing pace back towards civilisation. One wild, one crazy - but which one of us, he wondered with more than a touch of levity, is which?


	5. Out Of The Darkness

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

Big, whiskery werewolf kisses for those who have reviewed so far. Thanks, guys!

****

Chap 5

*

Out Of The Darkness

*

Logan was, once again, tired, frustrated and angry. I wonder, he thought irritably, if the Lone Ranger ever felt like this? He had also decided that the next time he was asked to do a solo rescue mission the professor could either shove it, or have it shoved for him. Whatever.

"We're going down there," he said between clenched teeth, "_now. _Whether you like it or not."

Smoke's answer was to cower still further into the snowy undergrowth, making small whimpering noises.

Please, no…not there…I'll die! 

Make nice, Logan. Nice nice nice. Kicking her ass again this close to civilisation would only attract attention, and probably earn them both a butt full of shot. Not to mention the fact that whilst the bastard locals down there would probably be able to hack Smoke's head off (eventually) - a thought which had also occurred to him over the last hour - they wouldn't be able to get through his spine. Not a nice thought. Being conscious and aware when someone is hacking at your neck with an axe? Brrr. 

So. Think of something else.

"Ok, what about this. You see down there where the road curves?"

She glanced in that direction, yes.

"How about I deal with the people down there, drive off, stop at that bend, then you get in?"

Not in the daylight

"Oh, for _fuck's _sake. Alright. Not more than an hour till full dark. I go for a beer, you wait down there, _then _I pick you up. Better?"

No

Ok, enough already. He was tired, he was cold, and it was going to take him _six days_ to get back to the mansion. Six days of this…this…_nonsense._ Nope. No way. Uh - uh. 

Logan's hands flashed out and grabbed Smoke by the ruff, popping his claws so they lay either side of her head, grazing her ears. He gave her a fierce shake, and shoved his face against the end of her muzzle, staring straight into her eyes. She tried to pull back, avert her stare - but he didn't let her. Pack leader to pack follower. Reinforcing the power structure. Making his mastery complete.

"Do. As. You. Are. Fucking. _Told_. " he grated out giving her head a sharp shake with each word. He dropped her head, and stared her down to the ground.

Well, bub, it'll either work or she'll be off into those hills so fast and far God himself couldn't find her with a radio telescope. And screw Xavier if he wanted him to get her back….

OK

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. It had worked.

"Go down there - " he pointed - "and wait. When you see me, I'll open the door and you hop in. Got it?" To emphasise his point, he popped his claws and waved them in the direction he meant. He held his stance - and his glare - until she had turned and slunk off in the correct direction.

Jeez. _Women. _At least, while this one wore a coat of thick fur, he didn't feel quite so bad about being such a dominant ass…grinning, he slid down the last slope, towards the bar.

*

"Hey! Wild man! You're back!"

Logan slid onto a bar stool, lit a cigar, and winked at her.

"Yeah, an' I'm damn thirsty! Gimme a beer."

The same blonde as had made a pass at him when he left and greeted him so loudly on his returned shimmied up to him, and plonked a beer down on the sticky bar. Oh hell, he thought, I'd forgotten what she smells like. And now she thinks I like her. I think I hate my life right now.

"Well? Didja find it?"

He took a long swallow of his beer, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Find what, darlin'?"

"You know…" she drawled, in a manner she no doubt thought was seductive, "The mutie - dire - wolf - thing. You said you were hunting it"

"Nah. _You _said I was hunting it. _I _said I was just going up there for a bit. Gimme another beer." He puffed cigar smoke into her face, and grinned when she stormed off, grabbed his beer and slammed it down in front of him.

"Asshole"

"Yep."

Still chuckling, he got up and tossed some money on the bar, turning to go. Jesus, he needed to get home. No analysing, no whys and wherefores, just _home. _Back to complicated, beautiful, women who not only smelled great, but who desired him in spite of the fact he was an asshole. Like Marie. Oh, Marie.

He glanced up at the sky as he climbed into the truck. Almost dark, but not quite full. Still, the hell with it. If Smoke wouldn't come out of the trees, she could stay up here forever for all he cared. He climbed up, and started the engine with a roar - but let it fall back to silence a moment later.

"Hell."

He turned and picked up his duffel from the rear seat, sorting out a set of sweats he'd brought with him and laying them on the seat next to him. After all, his conscience muttered guiltily, it wouldn't be fair to have her travel the whole way stark naked, would it? Yeah, muttered the animal part of his brain treacherously, but it would make damn sure you didn't fall asleep while driving, eh?

Laughing softly to himself, he started the truck and set off towards the bend in the road through a curtain of softly falling snow.

*

To his surprise, when he slowed down and shoved the door open it was a short human figure which raced alongside the truck for a few paces and flung herself into the cab of the truck beside him. She yanked the door shut, flashed him a quick grin and began to examine the sweats he had provided for her.

"Do you have to sniff them like that? They're clean, you know."

She proceeded to examine the entire inside of the truck, sniffing it carefully, occasionally glancing at him with those icy grey eyes, checking that she hadn't made him cross with her. The only time he did tell her to quit sniffin' around was when she was investigating something she'd found in the passenger footwell - but left her rear end on the seat - her naked, round, soft - 

"Hey!"

She curled back up on the seat and sat still. Until the radio caught her attention. Before he could stop her, she had leaned forward again and was pushing buttons randomly. As he had expected, the radio eventually let out a huge belch of random sound - making her squeal and leap clean over the back of her seat to hide behind it, howling mournfully.

Between gusts of almost hysterical laughter, Logan managed to slap the off switch.

"Now will you please just sit still! Go to sleep or somethin'."

Before long, he heard the familiar gristly sounds of transformation; but when he glanced behind him to the back seat some minutes later, he was greeted by the sight of an enormous almost - wolf snoring gently to herself, curled up and comfortable.


	6. Almost Home

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

Big, whiskery werewolf kisses for those who have reviewed so far. Thanks, guys!

****

Chap 6

*

Almost Home

*

Their first motel stop.

"Put some clothes on."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Later - 

"What's this?"

"Soap."

"And?"

"Shower. Over there. Use it."

"How?"

Oh brother. This was going to be a longer trip than even he had thought. 

Much later still - 

"Your bed's that one."

"Ugh!"

"Get under the covers."

"No way!"

"Do as you damn you well please, then. Goodnight!"

Logan woke up some time later, feeling a great weight on his legs. Looking down, he saw Smoke in her animal form curled up next to his legs on the bed. He had to smile; a man and his wolf, a wolf and her man. He reached down and gently stroked her furry ears, noticing for the first time how soft they were. She snorted quietly, and snuggled closer to his legs. He laid back down in the dark, realising how pleasant the sensation was; ah well, he thought as he slipped slowly back to sleep, at least she smells better now.

*

Back on the road at first light. For once, he had persuaded Smoke to ride in the front, wearing - miracle of miracles - clothing; it was only the sweats, but hey, it was a start. She had relaxed so much in his company over the last four days and nights that he figured it might be time to draw a few more things out of her about her recent past.

Like her accent, for example. He had noticed something odd about it the first time she spoke to him, to beg for her freedom; it had taken time to identify it as he had initially figured that if you hadn't spoken for four years, you'd be bound to sound a little funky. Right? Then he'd realised what it really was.

"So, how come a Brit winds up in the Canadian mountains anyway?" He asked, not ever having been noted for his subtlety.

"You know?" She asked, eyes widening. She began to shift in her seat.

"Yeah, I know. And don't try to shift shape in here!" He popped his claws and waved them under her nose. Distracted, she cocked her head to look at them, then tentatively raised her hand to touch them.

"Does that hurt, when you do that?" she asked softly. He withdrew them and absently rubbed his knuckles.

"Every time" he replied quietly. Whoa. Wolverine deja vue…only one other person had ever asked him that. The fact that Smoke was the second unnerved him slightly.

"Quit changing the subject" he muttered eventually. She was quiet for a minute, then finally spoke.

"My parents discovered I had this…ability. We came to Alaska for help. I didn't like it. I ran away. End of story." She was staring fixedly out to the front, and the scent Logan was picking up warned him off pushing her further. He could smell fear - lots of that - but it was the other, slighter fainter one that caused him to worry. Until now, he hadn't really realised that madness - true, wild insanity - had a bitter smell all of it's own. Call it mental illness, call it depression-with-psychotic-episodes, call it curable, call it what you will, but she was holding it back by sheer effort of will. Tough, aintcha? He thought quietly. Before his reasoning side had a chance to mull this over thoroughly, his animal-self took steps to ease the situation. (Move over, asshole!) He gave a gentle, deep rumble from his chest, and stroked her hand where it was clenched, white knuckled, over her drawn up knees. He felt her relax slightly, and the trembling he had felt in her slowed and finally stopped. Change the subject, Logan.

"Hey" he said, more brightly than he had intended, "we'll be there tomorrow. You'll like the people. They're OK. Be company for you, huh?"

She tilted her head at him, narrowed her eyes slightly and seemed to come to a decision.

"Tell me about them" she asked softly.

So he talked. After a couple of hours, he was surprised to find that he had barely scratched the surface; after four, he was getting a sore throat. At six hours, Smoke gently touched his hand, interrupting his steady flow.

"You love her, don't you?" she asked, with a strangely soft expression on her face. Logan was stuck. On the one hand, he was delighted that she had touched him; it was the first time she had reached out since he caught that first whiff of her in the forest. He felt this could be important. Like, life saving important.

On the other hand, he was pretty mortified that someone who had forgotten how to _talk, _fer fuck's sake, had figured out how he felt for Marie. Oops. Bad Logan. Giving the game away like that.

"She's a friend, that's all - right?" he rapped back, a little more sharply than he had intended.

"You don't smell like it"

Logan glared at her until she dropped her eyes, sweeping her long black lashes down to cover them. Even so, he saw that she had a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. He slumped lower in his seat, chewed on a fresh cigar, and glared at the road ahead as if it was _personally _responsible for this.

*

Eventually, keen as he was to get to the mansion, even Logan admitted that stopping for a few hours rest was a good idea. Picking a tiny, ramshackle motel, he bade his companion stay in the vehicle while he climbed out and sorted the room out. According to their routine, she would stay huddled in the car until he came back for her, then press herself close to him while he led her to the room.

Despite all his encouragement, she hadn't eaten anything yet, and still spent every night curled up on the end of his bed in her wild form.

Unlike every other night, however, this time when he returned to the vehicle she was gone.

*

They were out here somewhere.

Her sense of smell - at least as sensitive as his, and more finely tuned at the moment - had detected them as soon as they had pulled up. She had been very surprised that HE couldn't detect them; and disturbed to think that he could, and didn't care.

Through the fog of stinks and sticking to the shadows she sought the other creatures she had detected, moving like the substance that had prompted her father to laughingly give her the nickname she now wore as identity. _Don't think of that! _Focus. Focus. Over there.

Their suffering was palpable in their smell.

Two large dogs, chained up in a tiny yard. No water. No food. Smell of defeat. Smell of violence. Smell of pain.

Pain in her head.

She flipped forms almost absently; the two dogs sat up warily, eyeing the stranger. She was new to them; their normal reaction would have been to roar with rage and attack but somehow…they didn't want to. She was in their heads, gently soothing hurts and calming fear, rage…all the things their brutal man had put in their heads. She brushed lightly over their memories, looking at the different ways they had been treated; cute puppies indulged. Discarded as adolescents. Passing from hand to hand, each one more brutal than the last - and finally to here. The end of their road. Unless she did something about it.

Moving closer, she freed them both from their heavy, ill fitting collars that had cut so savagely into the skin and coat of the neck. She didn't realise that she wept as her hands struggled with the stiff buckles; the nearest dog whined gently and licked her face. When they were freed, she held them briefly, then flipped back to her wild form. In her confused brain, she had decided that if HE watched over her and gave her water, he would surely help these two. So thinking, she followed her nose and led the two rangy crossbreeds back to where she had left HIS vehicle.

*

When Logan - standing at the door to their room and swearing sulphurously to himself - spotted the figure of Smoke wending her way through the shadows toward him, he was relieved. Sort of. In a now-I'm-gonna-whup-your-ass sort of a way.

When he spotted her companions trotting along behind her, he groaned quietly and bit right through his cigar.

I _knew _this was gonna happen. I knew those dogs were chained up, but I did think she'd have more sense. I can see it now; Xavier's school for the Gifted and every beaten Mutt across the State. God.

Now what do I do?

When she came closer, he simply hissed "inside!" at her. When she (and two large, smelly hounds) were far enough in for him to shut the door, he slammed it, locked it, and leaned back on it, effectively barring it.

"Change back. Now." He was so angry, he didn't even turn away as the grinding transformation unfolded before him.

"I couldn't leave them there!" she wailed, wringing her hands as he glared at her, "They'd die!"

A pause. He looked at her tear streaked, anxious face and all the anger drained out of him; how could he be mad at someone who had a heart big enough for the whole world, or at least that part of it on four legs with fur? But he had to nip this in the bud or they'd _never _get home.

"Darlin'" he sighed, "tell your friends to go. They can't come with us. I understand - "

"You don't!" she wailed.

"- that you feel you can do something for them, but this is as far as it goes. Let 'em go. They'll have to take their chances."

Seeing her clutch the necks of the dogs and sobbing her heart out tore at Logan's conscience. But what could he do? They were so nearly home. (There's that word again, bub. We must talk about that one of these days.)

He stepped back, and opened the door. After one last, racking sob, she looked into the eyes of each of the animals in turn. Without a whimper, they quietly moved past Logan, and disappeared into the night.

"Ok girl, go shower. It's late, and we've got an early start in the morning."

She didn't argue. She just picked up the small bag containing soap and shampoo, and went into the bathroom. What hurt Logan the most, though, was the look of betrayal in her eyes, and the waves of disappointment he could feel radiating out from her. And things had been going so well……


	7. Home Is Where Your Heart Is

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey……. ****

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

Big, whiskery werewolf kisses for those who have reviewed so far. Thanks, guys!

****

Chapter 7

*

Home Is Where Your Heart Is

*

"C'mon kid, lighten up"

Stony silence.

"We'll be there in an hour or so. Cheer up, willya?"

A deep sigh. Oh good, that's the biggest reaction I've had all day. Here's hoping the next one isn't to jump out the window…

"You're thinking about her. Your mate."

My wha-?

"I'm not. And she isn't-"

He was interrupted by Smoke casting a pointed glance at his groin, then looking him full in the face.

"Maybe I am, then."

A satisfied snort. Then, a little timidly -

"So…you won't let me go then?"

"Nope. Anyway, what do you want back there?"

She didn't answer, curling herself up again and staring morosely at the road as it flashed by them. Logan began to get a peculiar feeling crawling up his back, lacing cold fingers around his spine and raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

It took him a while to identify it. It had been a long time since anxiety like that had compressed his chest, making it hard to breathe and tickling the edges of his consciousness with the urge to panic.

"Uuuuum…Smoke?" It had to be something to do with her. Her smell said so. She just tucked herself in tighter.

"Have you got any other…um…abilities? 'Cos now would be a good time to share."

"I'm not telepathic" she whispered.

What? So how had she communicated with him in her 'other' form? What about the dogs? And the gentle touch of her mind as she slept on the end of his bed?

He turned and flashed a brief smile at her.

"Don't be scared, darlin'. Just tell me. It'll be OK. I promise."

She took a deep breath.

"In the…when I was at the…well, you know…" she drifted into silence. Indeed I do know, thought Logan grimly. I was there too. Different location, same place.

"Well, they said I was a - " she frowned as she struggled to remember the words - "projecting empath. You know. Feelings."

"But I heard words!" he protested. She turned her head toward him and gifted him with a gentle smile; the first one he'd seen. It made her features oddly beautiful, in a way that reminded him, strangely, of Ororo.

"No. You created words out of feelings and pictures. The human brain does it so fast that it _feels _like words; some people get the impression of remembering words, of the phrases getting into their head without accessing their ears. Guess it wouldn't unnerve you; after all, you're used to telepaths. But some people…" she trailed off again, before giving a great sigh and continuing - "…think it's dangerous. Because I can influence how people feel."

"Oh."

"It's how I communicate with animals. It's how they communicate, after all; body language, feelings, pictures, nameless emotions…simpler and purer than people."

"'Cos people are a mess of conflicting emotions?" he supplied eventually, beginning to understand. She nodded silently, and a fat tear began to roll down her cheek.

"And I can feel them" she whispered.

"Look," he said, as gently as he could, "it won't be so bad at the mansion. Everyone there's used to telepaths, so their mental shields are pretty strong." He stopped, at a loss what to say next to comfort her.

"No such thing as an emotional shield, though, is there?"

Logan thought about this.

"I don't know. But the professor will. When we get there, I'll take you straight to him; you'll like him. He'll be able to help you."

Her only reply was to bury her head in her arms and shake. He patted her on the back awkwardly.

"Come on, darlin'…I need you to be brave. You can be brave for me, can't you?"

She looked up at him again to give him a rather weak, watery smile.

"For you? OK. I'll try."

"That's great. Remember that. And best you brace yourself, kid, 'cos we're here."

The big gates swung open to reveal the long drive, curving gracefully up to the mansion. Home. Unfortunately, Logan was so wrapped up in enjoying the feeling, he didn't notice his charge beginning to fidget and fling hunted glances around her. Oh, he knew his animal side was yammering at him, but assumed it was yelling about Marie - as usual - and ignored it. Pipe down in there!

By the time he pulled up, a small crowd was starting to gather. At the forefront, the face he'd missed the most. As he flung the door open, she was the first one to greet him, big smile wreathing her features and wearing - oh, God! - a heavy coat to keep out the chill over a tiny bra top and shorts. Musta been workin' out.

"Marie! Hi, kid."

"Logan! Sugah! Didja bring me something nice?" Big hug. None too sisterly, either. He held her tightly to himself for a few seconds longer than necessary; must get round to telling her about the whole 'mate' thing, he thought absently as he inhaled her familiar scent.

"New playmate…"

Logan

Hi wheels.

Your truck - 

The telepathic conversation got no further, as an explosion promptly went off behind him.

He had, of course, left the drivers door open. Jubilee - closely followed by the Cajun - had bounded over to say 'Hi!' to the new mutant in their midst. Smoke had, as soon as Logan had left her side, shifted back into the form she felt most comfortable in. So Jubes, instead of being met by the sight of another human, saw instead a large, dangerous looking animal. Growling at her. So she shrieked.

"Gawd! What's that thing?!"

Gambit, ever trying to impress the girls, produced a super-charged card and flung it at the beast. Luckily for him, it missed, merely blowing the screen to hell; even luckier, so did Smoke as she sprang straight out of the cab at her attacker. She almost didn't - only her confusion after the explosion made her shred his sleeve on the way past instead of his throat.

Bedlam.

Students yelling and running. Gambit and Jubes flinging explosive cards and firecrackers around with no thought as to where they were going. Tendrils of ice and fire roaring between people in an attempt to tag the elusive beast. Smoke bellowing and slashing at people with her teeth as she tried to escape the throng of screaming people. Rogue clutching at Logan in fear, who stared blindly at the scene with only one thought running through his brain - 

Oh, _shit_.

Logan grabbed Rogue's hand and began to run towards Smoke, whose panicked run had been temporarily halted by way of Jean's telekinesis. It wouldn't hold for long; even with her formidable mental control she couldn't hold Smoke's struggling body entirely still, and it was clear that the wild creature was going to break loose sooner rather than later. 

The crowd that had originally turned up out of curiosity were steadily converging on the two silently struggling figures - and they had the eerie look of a lynch mob about them.

"Wh-? Sugah, what is that thing?!" Marie demanded breathlessly as Logan charged through the mass of bodies, carving a path with sheer bodyweight.

"She's no thing, she's a person, she trusts me and I think she trusts you, and we need to stop this!"

And that's why she's my Marie, he thought grimly as she didn't stop to ask questions or demand an explanation, but took him at his word and began to help him ram a path through to the stalled Smoke. She don't argue in a crisis, she does what's needed, she's tougher than an old boot and she'll kick my ass later - hope Smoke recognises her…

"Jeannie! Let her go!"

"Are you crazy? It's dangerous! I won't let it endanger - " Jean had drawn herself up to her full height as she began to argue with him. 

I don't have time for this. Wheels!

Logan came the instant reply are you sure that - 

Yes! Get Jeannie to do as she's told!

Abruptly, Smoke fell the few feet to the ground with a grunt, and immediately began to race for the woods.

"NO!" roared Logan, hoping like hell he still had alpha male status - and she was still listening.

Apparently he did, for she pulled up and spun around to face him, jaws leaking foam as she gasped harshly for breath. The various burns and injuries inflicted on her were healing; but there was a particularly nasty burn along her left flank that was still oozing blood. For that, he decided, Gumbo was going to pay dearly. However, they still weren't out of the woods - so to speak, he thought wryly - as she was pacing slowly backwards, away from him. He could feel whatever link they shared being stretched thinner, thinner…and it couldn't be long before it snapped. And then she would be lost forever.

"Don't do this."

Pictures in his mind of him talking about his friends. About how good, gentle and accepting they were. Then the pain and fear of being attacked. In other words I trusted you!

"You just startled them. Please. They didn't mean it."

More jumbled images of pain and betrayal, and he couldn't honestly disagree with them. He flicked a quick glance at Marie; he'd run out of options. She squeezed his hand, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Honey?" she spoke quietly, with a relaxed drawl, and slowly began to approach the terrified mutant, "they won't hurt you again. Or the Wolverine will have them for breakfast."

Smoke's breathing began to slow, and her ears began to lift up from their position flat on her head.

"You trust him, don't you?"

There was a single, frozen moment when it seemed the whole world held its breath. Smoke, Logan and Marie would never forget this particular scene; the three of them held in perfect equilibrium in the pale winter sunlight while fate decided where the three of them would go next.

Smoke stopped backing away, and looked him straight in the face. Her stance softened, and her eyes lost the white rims; all the body language signalled acceptance. Marie sighed softly.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

An image of white smoke drifting through the dappled sunlight of the forest.

"Smoke?"

You got it quicker than HE did

"Yeah, but he can be dumber than a box of rocks sometimes…"

Mental feel of amusement.

"So, you comin' in then? Comin' home with us?"

To every one's amazement, Smoke walked calmly forward and stopped directly in front of Marie. Gently, disbelievingly, she gently ran her hands through the beast's soft coat and smiled at her.

"You'll be OK" she whispered into a furry ear, "We'll take care of you."

I trust you. You are HIS mate. I trust him. I will come

Logan had to grin at the sight of tall, beautiful Marie walking back towards him with the grace of a cat, accompanied by an enormous wolf creature who moved with equal loose-limbed freedom. What a pair. But when they drew level with him and he turned to join them, he almost tripped when Marie - without breaking stride or moving her lips - hissed:

"Mate?"

"Ah…"

"Sugah, we need to talk."

Still wearing a slightly strained smile, he fell in behind the two as they entered the huge front doors of the mansion, with the rest of the crowd still watching in utter, shocked silence.


	8. Ghosts Of The Past

Disclaimer: Smoke belongs to me. Nobody else does. Please don't sue me - all you'll get is dust bunnies.

Feedback would be very, very cool. Especially since this chapter was very stubborn and did not want to be written!!!

A/N: I've slightly changed the format of mental communication; you're smart cookies, you'll figure it out!

This was meant to be the final chapter - it isn't. Don't blame me; you think I have control over this fic? You have got to be joking….

Further note: Animals can scream. I've heard it - I'm a student Vet nurse - and it is not a nice sound.

Right then, you ready? Good! On with the show! 

Chapter 8

Ghosts Of The Past

The three individuals walking through the halls of the mansion appeared strange, even in a place such as this accustomed to odd happenings. A tall, strikingly lovely young woman with white streaks to her hair and snapping anger in her eyes. At her side, a large, wolf-like creature, silver and black, mane and hackles standing on end in fear; bringing up the rear, a tall and muscular wild man, ducking his head and dragging his feet.

Clearly, not the end of a tale.

Professor Xavier straightened in his chair and steadied his mind. He knew that when the student, the wildman and the stray came into this room, there were all sorts of possibilities; many paths that could be taken. Not all of them good. If he got this interview wrong, he could crush the sanity of the young stray and endanger all within his care; he had never had to order the death of another mutant but, if this one started raging through his halls, he may have to. _It was never supposed to be like this!_

A knock on the door.

Put up or shut up time.

"Come in Logan…Marie."

Their companion peeked shyly around the doorframe, lifting her muzzle to catch the professors scent.

"Be welcome, Smoke. Come in, please…make yourself comfortable."

She moved in to the office and stood there, a shaft of winter sunlight coming through the window catching her raised hackles and making her back look as if it were on fire. She swung her head around again, uncertainly; Marie crouched at her side and rubbed Smoke's soft ears gently.

"You'll be OK, sugah; the professor's a friend. He'll be able to help...ah promise."

The professor cleared his throat and indicated the comfortable chair opposite him. Draped over it was a soft robe.

"If you would like to change back, I think we could communicate more easily."

She thought about this.

*On one condition.* 

"Name it."

*All of you -* she turned so that she could see all three of them with a single glance - *turn around. Changing is…private.*

Logan hastily complied. When Marie cocked her eyebrows at him, he just shrugged.

"It ain't pretty, darlin'. Trust me."

Marie complied. Xavier must have done so as well, for there suddenly came the crunching, grinding sound of transformation.

"Ah…Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"If I turned around now, what would I see?"

"Just look at the wallpaper."

"You can turn around now" came a voice from the chair. When they did, they saw a smallish young woman, pulling the robe tightly around herself. Logan couldn't help but grin.

"Hi kid. Lookin' good. Well, better, anyway."

She smiled gently. Flashing a glance at Rogue, she blushed and dropped her gaze.

What? Marie dug Logan in the ribs as she felt his shoulders start to shake with laughter. 

"What's so damn funny?!" she hissed.

"Tell you later…"

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the professor's deep, quiet voice addressing Smoke.

It had begun.

*

"Over and above everything , I want you to remember this: you are among friends here."

Smoke glanced around herself and shivered, pulling the robe more tightly around herself She flashed a quick mental picture to Xavier of the attack in front of the mansion. He winced.

"Yes…I don't blame you for feeling at least a little betrayed by that…unpleasantness. But you understand fear, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Jubilee can be a little abrasive at first. She made you afraid, you made her afraid and sadly," a small, rather lopsided smile, "Remy is still inclined to show off to impress the girls." He frowned somewhat. "And you can be very sure that I will be having words with them both about that."

Smoke smiled a little at the tone of his voice.

"Logan said you became quite eloquent on the way here - "

She threw a look over her shoulder, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

"- although he didn't phrase it quite like that." 

She gave another small smile, which quickly faded when she looked back at the professor. She dropped her eyes almost immediately, seemingly unwilling to meet his gaze.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, child. Will you speak with me?" He held his breath as he observed her internal struggle. His heart ached for this young woman, brutalised and terrified until she had been forced to exist as a wild thing, trusting no one with only her skills to rely on. It was going to be a long, long road back for her; he wondered sadly if she was aware of that.

"I…don't speak very well. It has been…a long time."

"Four years, Logan said."

She gave a shrug of one shoulder which said, I think so.

"Then let us start before that. Do you remember your childhood?"

Another fleeting smile. Oh, yes.

"Where were you born?"

"Yorkshire…God's own country. The north east of England. We lived near the moors…I remember the snow." She sighed, and seemed to be struggling with the words. "Could I…show you?"

Xavier was startled that she would offer to let him inside her mind so soon after meeting him. But then, he reasoned, she trusted Logan, and Logan trusted him - so maybe it wasn't so strange after all. Plus, his accent marked him out as a fellow countryman of hers; perhaps the first familiar thing she had encountered for a long, long time. He nodded, and smiled at her.

Moving his chair around to her side of his desk, he reached both hands out to her.

Pausing only briefly, with a gulp of fear she grasped them with her own.

Suddenly, they were both standing on a snow-covered hillside watching a small child being pulled up it on a sled. The sound of childish laughter drifted to them on the raw wind. When they got to the top, the man turned the sled around, crouched behind it and put his hands on the side.

"Ready?"

"Go! Go!"

He pushed the sled off and promptly began to run down the slope after it. The child was laughing happily, whooping with glee even as she fell off at the bottom. The man flung himself down next to her, showering her with snow; this started an impromptu snowball fight that delighted the child even more. 

"Come on then!" he called cheerfully, and the child scrambled on to the sled to be towed back up the hill. They sang a nonsense song together as they climbed; the sweet, high voice of the child mixing with the rough baritone of the man.

"My father. I was so happy this day; I thought my heart would burst." She smiled over at Xavier. "I had him all to myself. Just the two of us, playing in the first real snowfall of winter." 

"How old were you?" asked Xavier gently, feeling grief clutch his heart as he observed the pair on the bleak hillside. The child was insisting that her father go down on the sled this time; he seemed to enjoy it as much as she had.

"Six. I was so happy - "

She broke off, and pointed down the slope to a small cottage tucked into a fold in the hills; slate roofed and built entirely from the local granite, it at first appeared to be a cold and forbidding structure. Until you noticed the warm glow spilling from the heavily curtained windows, and the smoke curling lazily from the chimney, to be whipped away as soon as it rose above the lee of the hill.

Then they were standing in the kitchen of the same cottage; flagged floors that should have been icy were covered with thick, well-worn rugs; the range exuded a gentle heat which filled the space with the scent of the rich stew bubbling away on top of it. A woman - short, rounded, with a shock of glossy black hair caught at the back of her neck in a thick ponytail - was busily tidying up a corner of the kitchen strewn with toys, only pausing to check on a baby gurgling and cooing in a Moses basket in the corner.

"Your mother?"

"And my sister. Four years between us."

She turned toward the door then, as it burst open to reveal a tall man with striking, pale grey eyes and a shock of silver hair, currently full of ice and snow and only partially covered with a woolly hat. In his arms he held the child, bundled up in thick trousers and coat, woolly hat covering most of her ears and eyebrows, brightly coloured mittens and scarlet wellington boots. She was laughing again, all rosy cheeks, small white teeth and sparkling grey eyes that were the very mirror of her fathers.

"Sarah, love, you must be frozen!" called the woman cheerfully, "Come on, let's get that wet gear off you so we can have a spot of tea…" the woman chattered on as she attended to the child, who was excitedly describing to her mother the fun they had been having out on the hillside in a piping voice. Her father had shed his wet coat, hat and boots, and was now bouncing the baby on his lap.

"Sarah" said Xavier with a smile, turning to look at Smoke.

"Not any more. She died."

Scenes began to flicker before them; large family gatherings, Christmas, Easter, New Year…christenings, weddings, funerals. The laughter of children among brightly coloured decorations, the grief of older adults beside sombre black drapes. Picnics on the moors. A constant round of cousins, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. Snatches of conversation, images of moments in her life: stalking a squirrel closely enough to touch it's tail, causing the family to nickname her Smoke because she crept up on it so quietly. Gentling a young horse - 

"You've got a real way with animals, our kid"

"Nah. He's just scared. I've told him he's OK, and he believes me…"

"That imagination of yours!"

Through the busy ebb and flow of this life, the child Xavier knew would be Smoke grew ever older.

"You had a large family?"

"Oh yes." She gave a lost sort of a smile. "We were always arguing amongst ourselves; Uncle Fred not talking to Auntie Susan because of What She Said About Our Sharon Last Christmas, or small rows about who had cleaned Great Nanna's windows last or who was next due to dig Great Aunt Marjorie's garden. But let an outsider threaten or challenge us, and that person would feel the full force of the Nettleton Clan's fury; not a pretty sight."

A scene involving a weeping cousin, obviously just ditched by the young man currently being advanced upon by a group of young and middle aged male relatives, all with 'come and get yer legs broke' eyes.

"But then, of course, my mutation showed itself one day - at puberty, as they normally do. Like my body wasn't confused enough about what was going on…"

Two girls having a screaming match, the older one - no more than fourteen - roaring at her younger sister to stay out of her room; the younger one screeching back spiritedly, giving as good as she was getting. Suddenly, the older one appeared to have some sort of fit; the younger child carried on shouting for a minute or two, until it became clear that something was indeed wrong. Her sister's form was twisting and writhing wildly, and the sickening crunch of gristle was beginning to rise from the prone, twitching form.

"MAM!" howled the younger child, racing past Smoke and Xavier unseeingly, charging down the stairs screaming shrilly with fear.

Despite knowing that he was witnessing a memory, the professor couldn't help reaching out to the struggling form on the ground. Smoke gently laid a hand on his arm.

"It's OK. It's an old pain."

The familiar form was becoming clear. Lying on her side, panting heavily and whining softly, was the creature Logan had met in the forest. The only difference was that this one had a confused, lost look in her eyes.

The shorter woman came racing up the stairs, accompanied by the younger child. The sight that met her eyes as she arrived must have been terrifying; instead of her older daughter writhing in the throes of a fit, she saw a large, dangerous looking animal. Seemingly unaware of her bodily change, the animal was making mewling noises and crawling towards her family; noting the horrified look on their faces, she glanced around in confusion and happened to lay eyes on a large mirror, propped in the corner of the room, draped with scarves and surrounded by discarded clothing, as befitting the mirror of a teenager.

She saw her own reflection.

"No…." murmured Xavier, having a good idea what was coming next. Smoke patted his hand gently, in an oddly comforting gesture.

The animal screamed.

It was a noise that scraped across the soul; made up in equal parts of horror, fear, pain, desperation - and madness. Smoke closed her eyes, leaning on the professor who was clutching her arm, caught up in the misery of the moment.

"Sarah?" said the mother gently, disbelievingly, "is it you, love?"

The animal looked at her mothers outstretched hand, and began to back away, wailing. Suddenly, she seemed to come to a decision. Turning swiftly, she flung herself toward the wall, slipped a little on the bedclothes, and jumped cleanly through the window, tearing herself terribly on the shattering glass. Her mother stared at the destroyed opening, festooned with tufts of fur and streaked with blood.

"Sarah…? Sarah!"

Silence, then, and only the sound of weeping.

*

Rogue had managed to shuffle Logan into a corner away from where the professor and Smoke were talking together. Once she was sure the other two were deep in mental conversation, she poked him hard in the solar plexus - eliciting a small grunt and pained look - and hissed:

"'Mate'?" Her expression hovered somewhere between outrage and amusement.

OK Logan. Get this right, and it's easy from here. Bluebirds singin', hearts, flowers, all that crap. Get this wrong and she may well never speak to you again. Gone. Lost. No more.

He wasn't sure he could stand that.

"She seems to think we belong together. You know…alpha female, alpha male…sort of thing." Yes, he'd deliberately put the female part first; even the Wolverine knew that occasionally you had to phrase things carefully if you didn't want to be sent home with your nuts in a sling.

"Alpha female…" murmured Marie, leaning into him a little, "I think I like the sound of that. But" she hissed suddenly, "how come you're the alpha male all of a sudden? I mean, why not - Scott?"

He rumbled deep in his chest and fixed her with a smouldering look.

"Ok, stupid question."

"Yup"

"Ah do not belong to you, though. Ah do not belong to anyone. Because - "

Logan didn't even have to speak to cut her off short this time. He just gently lifted his dogtags from where they still lay between her breasts and gave them a gentle shake. Followed by one of his sexiest looks - the one that had most women developing a ripcord on their knickers - and a lift of one eyebrow.

Ha! Lets see her resist that.

"Ok, maybe ah do belong to you. A little bit. But that's MY choice, not yours!"

Their attention was torn back to the other side of the room by a sudden agonised gasp. Smoke's head was thrown back, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, teeth bared and grinding, breath tearing raggedly through her as though she was dying and tears running freely from her eyes. The professor was staring grimly straight at her; the only signs of his distress the sweat on his brow and tears slowly leaking down his face. Rogue looked alarmed, grabbing Logan's arm tightly.

"Ah - sugah? Shouldn't we be doing something about this?"

His eyes darkened. He had a good idea what the wild thing was going through; he also knew that to break this mental bond could seriously - possibly even fatally - hurt the participants.

"No"

"But it's hurtin' them!"

"Leave them!"

Logan gripped Marie's hands tightly, holding her in place; together, they watched the suffering of their new friend as well as that of their mentor.

*

Abruptly, the observers were standing once more on the desolate moor away from the cottage. Smoke had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, tears leaking slowly from her eyes as she leaned into the comfort of her companion. They watched in silence as lights came on in the courtyard of the small cottage; phone calls had obviously been made, as various family members were turning up in an assortment of battered vehicles. Finally, one figure tore itself away from the group and began to race up the slope toward them.

It was her father. Before he had even reached them, his face was stretched into a rictus of fear, eyes wild, tears freezing on his face. They could hear his ragged breathing as he struggled through the snow, driving himself forward as fast as he possibly could.

"Where is he going?" asked Xavier softly. Smoke pointed to a tree filled hollow in the hill just visible to their left; no sooner had he spotted the place than they were there. 

Her father slid down between the trees, stopping by a pile of granite, seemingly a part of the hill which had tumbled down to rest in this dip in the land. It had formed a sort of cave made of tree roots and massive, ancient blocks of stone; from inside could be heard a faint, breathy whining - like an animal in great, tearing pain.

"Sarah?" 

The noise stopped, to be replaced by a listening silence.

"I'm - I'm sorry love, but…this is all my fault…." He began to weep.

More silence.

"You've been watching those documentaries, I know…the ones that talk about mutants…" he broke down into sobs again. "Well…I…I…have a mutation."

Low growl from the cave.

"It's nothing major! I just…just…heal really quickly. And I thought you might have that, because you've never been sick…not like your sister. She takes after your mum…"

"At least he didn't say 'normal'" sighed Smoke. Xavier put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Please love…come out of there. We can sort this, I _know _we can. There's some…people I work with up at the University…specialists. They…they might agree to help us. They specialise in…in…mutant physiology…" he broke down into wracking, heartbroken sobbing again, wrapping his arms around himself in a gesture that Logan would no doubt have found very familiar.

The great animal that was his daughter slowly emerged from her hiding place. Instead of being afraid, he father opened his arms and, when she came close enough, flung them around her neck and wept into the long fur of her mane.

Smoke suddenly made a motion of her hand, and all vision ceased.

what happened?

*I can't stand it. The remembering.*

If you'd rather break this off - 

*No. We've got this far…*

What happened next?

*My family accepted me, strange as it may seem. Although my sister had nightmares for months. After all, it was our problem, no one else's. The Americans my father was working with at the university offered to help. Said they knew of…a…facility…in Alaska. A private clinic, they called it.*

It wasn't what they said, I take it?

*No, it bloody well wasn't. We said our goodbyes, my parents and I flew over there, they…examined me, then said I would make more progress if my parents went home…at which point they showed their true colours*

Vision returned. A small cell. A terrified teenager, curled up naked beneath a thin blanket. 

"Oh no…what did you do?"

"What do you think? I escaped!"

(To be continued!)


	9. How Many Kinds Of Pain Are There?

Chapter 9

How Many Kinds of Pain Are There?

"Sugah…"

"Yeah?"

"D'ya think they're OK?"

"No"

"What're we gonna do, then?"

"Wait"

"Oh"

Oh indeed. Logan had a horrible feeling that this was all about to get seriously out of hand; he kept getting flashes of the 'madness' smell from Smoke, and that couldn't be good. Marie wanted to help, which was a nice idea but she hadn't seen what a tremendous fight Smoke had put up in the woods. He suspected that she thought that in an emergency she might get a punch or two, or a scratch; he knew better. So did his animal side; his forearms and knuckles were beginning to itch unbearably, a sure sign that the claws were starting to shift nervously within his body. They were ready.

If Smoke broke loose and lunged for his Marie, then she was dead. Simple.

He hoped like hell the professor knew what he was doing.

*

Escaped?

*Yeah. Watch*

Unlike the last time, they did not have bodies to watch from; they were not standing in the scene, but observing from the outside. Xavier was beginning to feel uneasy; just beyond the range of his sight he kept catching glimpses of a greasy, green black roiling that could be only one thing.

Madness.

*You see, I knew what they wanted to do with me as soon as we got there - I can feel people's emotions, remember?* 

Smoke's parents, being assured that their daughter would be fine, in a light, airy room filled with afternoon sunshine and the scent of jasmine. The smiling scientist seeing them to their car. Losing the smile as he returned to the building, heading down another, darker, corridor. Talking to a woman in a white coat outside Smoke's cell, scribbling on a clipboard.

"I want her prepped for a scan. Sedate her first; I can do without an animal biting my staff."

"I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. But staff are expensive to replace."

"Charming. Do you think this one will be useful?"

"Absolutely. We need a baseline CT and MRI, then I thought we'd work on the healing aspects first, then the empathy. She projects - if she cracks, she could make a useful weapon."

"How so?"

The man shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't you get it? She could make our governments' enemies want what we want…just by sitting in the next room. Try and see the bigger picture, will you? Good grief, next you'll be saying we're violating her rights!"

"Aren't we?"

"Nonsense. The ends justify the means. She's just another lab rat, albeit a valuable one."

"OK. After lunch, then?"

"Two hours."

"Right."

The two scientists strolled off through the corridors, discussing the finer aspects of the torture planned for the frightened teenager.

*You see, I could feel the others there. I knew how they felt - that was far worse than what I knew was going to happen to me. Look…* 

Xavier's mind was suddenly awash with mental images. Screams of pain. Pleas for mercy. Broken sobbing. The pathetic mental babbling of the lost. No, no, no more. I'll be good. I will. Don't hurt me. Please stop. Please stop. Not again. No more. My children - where are my children? Stop hurting me. No no no no no nononononononono…………. 

In the cell, the teenager is rolled up into a ball, clutching her head and sobbing at the grief and pain she has no way to block. Sounds in the corridor. They're coming for me, this time. They're going to take me - 

Tie me down - 

And cut - 

Me - 

Up

The door opens. Foolishly, the tired looking scientist entering hasn't realised how desperate the captive is. She only realises that she could have done with, say, an armed squad of guards for backup and maybe some air support, perhaps heavy shock troops, as she is hit square in the chest by a mass of sharp teeth driven by blind terror. Maybe, she considers dreamily as she swiftly bleeds her life out onto the cold floor, we should work with smaller lab rats. These bigger ones can be so tiresome. I'm cold. I wonder why?

Smoke leaves the corpse behind her and runs for her life.

Crashing through doors. Shrugging off the sharp sting of bullets. Tearing into anyone who steps into her line of flight. She's caught them by surprise; who would expect a slight teenager, overwhelmed by experience and terrified beyond belief, to be rescued by the animal inside? 

For coherent thought has fled. Much older instincts have taken over, and they have no pity, no mercy, no consideration at all - just an indomitable will to survive, at any cost.

Smoke! Smoke! It's not real! It's just a memory

*Real enough. And you did want to see.*

Don't lose yourself. Remember where you are

Afterwards, Xavier reflected ruefully that using the word 'remember' might have been a mistake. Instead of pulling her out of the memory as he had intended and - to be fair - had almost achieved, by using that word he lost her completely. So tangled was he in her memory, however, that she dragged him along with her - giving him a ride he hoped he would never, never have to experience again.

Alarms, now, and flashing red lights, assaulting heightened senses with blaring klaxons of sound that could make your ears bleed. Smashing glass doors, staggering over fallen enemies - how did they get there? - and why is there so much blood - tearing through rooms where experiments were being carried out on crying, screaming mutants who couldn't escape their tormentors. Even worse were the dissecting rooms, and the procedures forced on those who could no longer protest - they're people, damn you! - running and fighting, screeching and hurting. Electric shocks, bullets and blood and glass. Pain and exhaustion and fear. Anger. A familiar scent.

Family!

One last charge, one last door. Not locked. Out into the pleasant lobby she faintly remembered from earlier, through a plate glass window and long, painful drop to the ground. Away.

Over a fence. Smell of burning flesh as paws singe under powerful current. Heart juddering under assault of voltage, stopping and starting as the healing tries desperately to keep up. Over the top, over the wire, feel it tear and rip at hide. Trying to keep her within. Lie still for a moment and bleed. Bullets! Run on.

Follow that scent through the trees - don't show yourself to the road! - keep running and ignore the burning in your lungs, the fire in your muscles, the blood you keep panting over your jaw in a mass of foam. Keep running.

Run on. Closer now.

A bend in a road. A torn and mangled car. Bodies just visible within the wreckage - undoubtedly dead. Heads and limbs don't bend like that. Collapse and listen to the combat clad man talking to his radio.

"Targets neutralised. Do you want them returned for investigation?" A pause.

"OK. We'll be careful. Ready for cleanup here."

They're talking about my family. They're dead. They killed them.

"OK, listen up!" calls the man to his colleagues. "Another target for us. This one's an escapee, and could be heading right for us. Think you can handle it?"

Whoops and catcalls.

"Hey, can I keep it's head?"

"Yeah, it'd look real good on the mess wall."

"A mutie head? You're kidding!"

"Food's bad enough, that would really put us off!"

No more of this. They will defile my family no more. My pack, my life. I can heal. They will pay. I can live in the woods. 

Moving with a stealth born of years spent up on the moors, stalking the stag to touch him and send him away with a snort and a toss of his head and the hare to her form, taking rabbits by hand and following the badger so quietly he never knew you were there, she descended to the clearing, and took her revenge on the despoilers of her family.

*

"Oh shit….."

"What is it?"

"Marie, get outta here - "

She never got the chance. A gurgling noise began to bubble up from the depths of Smoke's chest, becoming louder and more powerful as it neared escape; finding it's way to the air, it became a powerful scream. No sooner had the screaming begun than the change followed it, as swift as thought. Xavier's hands slipped down, no longer able to grasp fingers that had suddenly thickened and twisted into paws. He slumped forward in his chair as a fully changed Smoke launched herself vertically from her position opposite him.

Twisting in the air, she landed as lightly as a cat in front of Marie, who had, as Logan had suspected she would, completely ignored his order to escape and moved toward the conflagration. Bunching muscles, baring teeth and emitting a sound somewhere between a snarl and a scream, she leaped for the first person she could see.

Logans heart stopped.

Feeling as though he was moving through treacle, he lunged forward to put himself between the raging beast and his beloved, claws ready to tear into the creature that _dared _attack his mate. With a sound that Marie later swore she would remember for the rest of her life - probably at around three in the morning after a bad night - the Wolverine's claws were suddenly buried to the hilt in the chest and throat of the attacker. Continuing his forward move, he bore her backwards and slammed her body into the table, pinning her on her back.

Rogue raced over to the professor's side, helping him sit up a little straighter. He appeared disorientated, lost; as though he had barely escaped from the experience with his own sanity intact.

A moment of silence, broken only by the slow trickle of Smoke's blood over the table and onto the carpet, and the retraction of his claws. Logan held her on her back with one hand on her chest, feeling for a heartbeat. After all, her healing factor should compensate - shouldn't it?

"Is she - " The professor's voice cracked with emotion.

"Yeah. Fat lot of good we were to her."

"It wasn't your fault, Logan."

"We told her you could help" Marie's voice was choked.

The professor looked grim.

"I did my best. Are you sure we can't help her? Is she really….gone?"

"Yeah."

*No*

With that, powerful hind legs swept up and kicked Logan away, impacting hard enough on his groin to curl him up into a little private universe of pain on the floor. Freed, Smoke twisted around so that she was facing Marie; focusing briefly on her, then on Xavier, she shook her great shaggy head and flung herself through the window, landing with a thump in the snow outside and moving as fast as she could toward the distant treeline.

"Scott!" Called the professor, clutching Marie's arm in a vice like grip. The leader of the X Men burst through the door, taking in the grey face of his mentor and a fallen Wolverine in one quick glance.

"Scramble the X Men. We cannot allow her to leave these grounds - she's very dangerous. Stop her."

"And if she won't stop?" 

"Just stop her."

Scott swallowed hard. He knew what he had just been asked to do. Nodding briefly, he raced back out the door to rouse the team.

"You can't - " Logan wheezed, finally pulling himself up from the floor with Rogue's assistance "- that makes you as bad as them."

Xavier closed his eyes, pain written on his face.

"I must. We cannot risk - "

"You'd kill her?" Marie's eyes went very wide at the thought. Xavier didn't answer.

"Logan!" she wailed, "We can't let this happen!"

"We won't, darlin'." He whooshed in a deep breath, and pulled himself upright. Taking Rogue's hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently.

"We're all the family she's got left. We'll find her." He turned to Xavier.

"We don't just abandon our friends….do we?"

With that, they set out to try and salvage some scrap of good from the rapidly expanding disaster - leaving Xavier to look at the ruined window, and wonder where it had all begun to go so wrong.


	10. Deathwatch

Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 10.

Author: Andrea The Mad

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.

Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.

Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.

Rating: R for general unpleasantness. If you're squeamish, you probably haven't got this far anyway.

Summary: Someone runs away, makes a decision, then tries to use the X-Men to make it work….

Chap 10

Deathwatch

Pandemonium ruled. Storm soared up into the sky whilst the other team members took up positions on the perimeter. As he was leaving, Scott grabbed Logan by the arm.

"Don't do anything stupid - we've got our orders."

Logan shook him off, a growl beginning deep in his chest. Marie shoved him to one side and stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Scott's chest and looking into his eyes earnestly.

"Scott, please…try not to."

He fidgeted uncomfortably for a second, realising only too well that all that stood between him and a good kicking - or clawing, as the case may be - was this slight southern girl.

"OK. I'll try. But you heard the professor."

"Thanks" she whispered, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Cheered immensely, Scott ran for the door, calling orders to his team in a clipped, emotionless voice.

"You're kissing Scooter now?" Logan sounded injured. Marie rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out the door after Scott.

"Yes, but - one eye?"

"Oh, come ON!"

*

From her perch high in an oak tree, Storm watched the ground carefully. She had her orders, but was feeling immensely unhappy at the prospect of having to carry them out. She knew of oppression; the continent that had been her home groaned under the weight of it, and even here - in the 'free world' - it slowly gained ground. Yes, she understood why the professor had ordered them to do what he felt was necessary, but she felt…uneasy with it. She had a good idea what had happened to the young mutant, and was not entirely proud of her part in the small riot that had occurred when she had arrived; but what, honestly, had Xavier, Scott, Logan and the others expected Smoke to do? Come straight in out of the woods and join them at dinner? After everything that had happened to her?

A noise, far below. Ororo stilled, praying that the great wolf had chosen another direction.

A movement.

A large form, hackles standing straight up and gleaming in the moonlight as though silvered by frost, stalked directly under her. Towards the road that led directly into town. 

I'll just…warn her off. (If you can't do it, one of the others will. At least you can do it with pity in your heart.)

A crack of thunder, directly overhead. Roiling clouds covering the moon, and gusts of wind angrily swirling the debris of late autumn into a black and grey maelstrom.

"Go no further!"

Smoke stilled, then roared up at the sky.

"Turn back!"

She lowered her head, and walked on.

Bright lady, I don't want to do this!

A whipcrack fork of lightning opened a steaming crater just before the nose of the wolf. She checked, briefly; glanced up at Storm, and kept moving.

No, please stop. I do not want your death!

The next lash caught Smoke squarely, flinging her backwards and causing her to thrash and twitch, choking on the steaming foam dripping from her jaws. Her movements slowed from their spastic fitting, then stopped.

Horrified, Ororo swooped down to land gracefully before Smoke's still form. 

"I'm sorry…." She sighed, the tears starting to come. "Bright lady, forgive me." She stretched out a gloved hand and touched the wolfish face, in a gesture filled with sorrow and pain - then snatched her hand back as though burned when the form before her drew a great, shuddering breath and rolled over on to it's chest.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Of course…her healing factor. Storm faced the great animal, and spread her hands in defeat.

"I will defend myself, but I will not aid in your death. We have brought you nothing but pain and I …I…am sorry. I will harm you no more."

Smoke pulled herself up into a sitting position and simply turned her great grey eyes on the white haired woman kneeling before her. She stared for several minutes, nodded her head, and turned away.

"Where…where are you going?" called Storm, confused. Smoke simply kept going without looking back.

Why would she turn away, when she had risked death to get to the road past herself? It made no sense. Unless…unless…

She was heading towards Scott. Who would not falter. Who would, as every good soldier should, follow orders through, no matter how unpleasant. Who, when he saw Smoke apparently determined to get past him, would not use reason, and would not try to communicate with her. He would stop her, or die trying. 

It suddenly dawned on Storm why the young mutant was heading that way.

Because, when you get right down to it, there are times when living is just too, too hard.

*

"Dammit! I'll never find her in these woods after Scooter and his happy crowd have stomped all over the trail!"

"You will. Just slow down - concentrate!"

At the sharpness in Marie's tone, Logan whirled to face her, eyes dark with anger. Marie braced herself; she'd seen him this furious before, but had never been the focus of it - then again, she'd never seen him lose a trail before, either.

"Y'don't think she might have hidden her trail a bit, sugah?"

Logan swung back to regarding the trees without answering.

Of course she has. Even out of her mind with panic, she must have known that he would come after her; they seemed to have a bond, the three of them. The three of them…hmmm. There was a possibility that, since she was a - what was it? - projecting empath (projecting, remember? As in, puttin' it on you) and since she knew his mind pretty well, she was somehow managing to confuse his senses.

Unlikely, but possible.

What she had - hopefully - forgotten was that there was a third person involved in this odd bonding. Marie. He turned back to her, and his heart gave a little twist when he saw how hard she was trying to be brave in the face of his anger. Gods, but she was wonderful. He couldn't think of anyone else he would rather have as his…mate. The animal within gave an exasperated huff. (Well, finally!) Time to do something about it, then.

He closed the gap between them, and gently took her face between his large, rough hands.

"I'm sorry I came on to you too hard - before, you know, when I came back-"

"I kno-"

He silenced her with a gentle kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry that you felt you had to push me away like that. Smoke, well, she made me see things differently."

Marie closed her eyes, and let her body soften against his. Finally.

Logan drew a deep breath. The feel of Marie's body against his own - soft, pliant, warm - was seriously distracting. Desperate situation or not, he just wanted to claim her as his own, and make her scream his name wildly to the racing clouds overhead; he couldn't help but rumble a low growl at the thought.

"Sugah…"

"Ssshhh - " He leaned his forehead into hers, and took a good lungful of the scent of her hair, her body…she smelled so good. He was faintly amused that he could feel the animal side of him thrashing about indecisively within his soul; take his mate, or find the lost one?

"Marie?" She looked into his eyes, trusting, loving…he just had to hope he was right about how she felt. It was not only Smoke's last chance; it was his as well.

"Do you trust me?"

"Bu-"

"Sshh. Do you?"

"Yes" whispered against his lips.

"Do you love me?"

A hiss of indrawn breath. Please, love, please, trust me…

"Yes"

"Do you know that I love you? With all my heart, with all my soul?"

For answer, she kissed him deeply, tangling her hands in his hair to pull him closer, pressing her body against his, telling him with her heat, her fervour, just how she felt. He could do nothing but hold her tight, and give her all the passion he could in this brief moment.

Now we'll see how much she trusts me. Here goes.

He broke the kiss, and straightened above her; she regarded him with uncertainty, flicking her tongue over her lips in a nervous - and incredibly sexy - gesture.

"Where's Smoke?"

Without hesitation, without thinking, she shot out a hand and indicated a direction to the northwest.

"That way"

He continued to look at her as a nasty suspicion arose in her mind. He knew what she was going to think; he wasn't sure she would have figured out the link, and how his senses could be dulled, but hers sharpened - he was just praying that he would get a chance to explain.

"You - you - just to track - why, you - RAT BASTARD - "

He held her while she raged at him; holding her close and just soaking up the blows and abuse until she stilled, out of breath.

He lifted her chin with a finger so that he was looking directly into her eyes, hazel to deep brown.

"Do you trust me?"

She whistled in a breath, and let it out between bared teeth. How could she not?

"Damn you. Yes."

"Good. Now let's go get our runaway before she gets her stupid self killed."

Marie just shook her head in confusion as she began to follow him, almost running into the back of him as he swung back to her.

"Y'know," he said wryly, dropping a swift kiss on to her lips even as he caught her, "Even if you're wrong, I'll still love ya!"

She swatted him hard. He shrugged, smiled; with that, the pair of them raced into the woods.

*

He was there, as she knew he would be. Fearless leader, HE had called him, with more than an edge of sarcasm in his voice; but his mind had glittered with a dusting of admiration for the man. She couldn't think why; she'd been anything but quiet on the approach, and still he stood with hand on visor - facing the wrong way.

She had to be careful. She had to make him feel that in giving her what she wanted, he was justified; she would have no more misery on her conscience.

Scott had almost no warning of the attack; a low growl, the dull thump of paws on the hard packed earth, and then a terrific blow to the point of his shoulder, spinning him round and knocking him to the ground. He regained his feet and focused on his enemy just in time to see her beginning another attack run towards him.

No choice! 

He put his hand to his visor, focused the beam with the speed of thought, and fired.

Even though she had been knocked down with terrible burns, he saw the wolf roll to her feet, healing before his very eyes; she attacked again, blade like fangs reaching for his body to tear him open, claws reaching out to rip the very flesh from his bones.

He fired again. And again. And still, she attacked.

*

Logan and Marie were loping along a barely distinguishable trail when they heard the thunder, and lightning lit the sky. They halted, staring upwards in horror. Marie clutched his arm hard.

"Ororo! Logan, we've got to hurry!"

He nodded grimly, and they redoubled their pace.

*

Slower now. Her attacks had lost none of their force, but it was taking her longer to recover from each pass. Scott was not unmarked himself; his uniform was shredded in several places, and she had once got a good grip on his thigh, shaking him like a rat.

They faced each other across the clearing, panting and bleeding.

"Marie asked me…not to…kill you" gasped Scott, trying to get through to the mutant staring at him. At that piece of news, she stilled, and her eyes lost some of their fierceness; for just a moment - a heartbeat - he realised just how beautiful, how wild, those eyes could be.

Then it was gone. She flung herself toward him once more, forcing him to flay her with ruby fire.

*

A dark shape swept down at them through the trees; Logan started back with a snarl, flashing his readiness to defend his mate with a glitter of deadly adamantium claws.

"Logan!"

"'Ro?"

"Quickly. The wolf - "

"Smoke" put in Marie fiercely, from her place at his side.

"- is attacking Scott. And oh, Logan - " she stepped towards them, and they were shocked to see tears shining in her glorious blue eyes, "- she is losing!"

Logan took off towards the commotion they could hear in the distance, Marie no more than a heartbeat behind him.

"'Ro!" yelled Marie as she tore along the trail her lover was hacking through the thick greenery, "try and stop them! Distract them!"

And then she was gone.

Passing her sleeve roughly over her eyes, Ororo nodded, and sprang into the sky once more.

*

"Stop…please…just stop. Your healing factor can't keep up!"

Scott had taken to pleading with his adversary between attacks. After all, this was madness! Why was she driving herself so hard to kill him? Especially now, when it was so abundantly clear she was losing?

She flung herself at him again, far less steadily than before. She was still faster than he in momentary bursts; this time, it was only his sleeve that exploded into tatters, and not the flesh of his upper arm.

But it was close.

"Scott! No!"

Distracted, he glanced skyward in surprise at the sound of Storm's scream.

Knowing that she had pushed him almost as far as she could, Smoke decided to finish this.

Her way.

Before he could refocus on his attacker, she hit him. Right in the midsection. Burying his hands in the thick, blood matted fur of her neck he tried vainly to pull her off; he knew that another blast would kill her…and he wasn't a killer.

But he couldn't stop a scream from starting when he felt her broken, bloodied jaws start to close around his ribcage, under the arm; much as he had tried to refrain from doing so, the long hours of training in the Danger Room kicked in and caused him to blast her square on the spine, flinging her aside in an explosion of blood and bone. He collapsed, realising only dimly that her weight was off him, and that the smell of burning flesh and singed hair was making him sick to his stomach.

When he glanced across at the wolf and saw what a fearsome mess his powers had made of her carcase, he felt even worse.

But then she twitched, and moaned, signalling the fact that even torn apart - she lived. Barely. 

Then he did retch.

"Oh, Scott…" sighed a soft voice, as Storm gently pulled her friend into her arms and cradled him, mindful both of his injuries and his need for solace.

"I tried…Marie made me promise, and I did try…so hard…"

"I know. It's not your fault."

Smoke moaned again, seeking release from the agony he had wrought; so he buried his face in his comrade's shoulder, and wept like a child while she rocked him gently.

*

Marie was several feet behind Logan when he burst out onto the scene, and didn't immediately see what made him stop dead and swear softly. Before she could get round him, he swung around and imprisoned her in his arms, eyes closing in sorrow.

"No, darlin'…you shouldn't see this."

"See what? Logan, let me go!"

He dropped his head to her shoulder, needing comfort, and shuddered.

"We're too late. I'm sorry."

"No! Damn you, let me go!" Furious now, she managed to struggle out of his arms and race past him, only to stop abruptly when she saw what he had tried to protect her from. She felt a touch on her shoulder, and leapt sideways. Logan stood by her, eyes haunted. Marie suddenly felt a flare of anger well up in her, and directed it at this man who was so ready to give up on a friend.

"Don't you dare!" she screamed.

Before he could demand what the hell she meant, she had run to Smoke's side and dropped to her knees beside the battered head.

*He has told you…how he feels*

The contact was faint, weak…but there. Tears starting now, Marie gently lifted Smoke's head into her lap and smoothed her ears, trying to avoid looking at the horrendous wounds that were slowly sapping away her life.

*Look…they won't hurt you. It's only a body…*

Apart from the various smaller burns and tears on her body - there was very little of that magnificent coat remaining - the final wound gaped obscenely open, steaming in the cold air. A mass of torn flesh and shattered bone over her spine, behind the shoulders; the skin and muscle torn away from her flank, exposing broken ribs to the night. Even worse, to human eyes, was the fact that the tear was long enough and deep enough to allow intestines to spill out in a glistening heap on the ground, pulsing dully in the weak light.

"God…Smoke…I thought you could heal?" choked Marie.

"Even a healin' factor can be overwhelmed, darlin'" sighed Logan softly, kneeling next to his love and touching Smoke's face gently, "especially when you've starved yourself for what - over a week now?"

He felt amusement brush against the edges of his mind.

*What is it you…colonials say? Oh yes, that's…it…'busted'*

"Why?" Marie was really losing the battle against the tears now, as she watched her friend's healing factor shudder through her body, and finally grind to a halt. Her body was just being shaken now by the struggles of her heart to pump life around a shattered body; soon, that would fail too. And…the only feeling emanating from the dying mutant was…peace.

*Too hard…for too long…* Her eyes flicked to Logan's then, and something passed between them that Marie could not read.

****

Snikt!

"What are you doing?!" hissed Marie. Logan didn't look at her.

"It's what she wants…it's cleaner like this."

"Dammit, no! I won't let you!"

*It really is…what I want. Would you rather I just…bled to death in your arms?*

"No! We've got doctors, surely they could help! Hank could - "

*No doctors…not now…I am… afraid… of them…just let me go, please..*

Logan suddenly cocked his head, a glint in his eye. He gently shifted Smoke's head so that she was looking straight into his eyes.

"Take a wager?" he grinned suddenly. Rogue got the strongest urge to hit him - hard - in the side of the head, until she remembered something he had said to her under the trees, earlier - 

Trust me.

This had better be good.

"If we can find a doctor you're not afraid of, who's not afraid of you - will you fight back? Will you try to live?"

*You…know I can refuse you…nothing*

Logan turned his head to Storm, still holding onto Scott who was, at least, on his feet now, still bleeding.

"Call the prof. Get Hank out here - fast" She nodded. He turned back to his love, still stroking Smoke's ears and whispering quietly to her, talking of family, and love, and how she would enjoy the woods in the summer. Trying to stop her from leaving. He settled down beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and tried to give what strength he could to them both.


	11. Desperate Measures

Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 11.

Author: Andrea The Mad

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.

Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.

Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.

Rating: R for general unpleasantness. If you're squeamish, you probably haven't got this far anyway.

Summary: Hank to the rescue.

Chapter 11

Desperate Measures

Marie didn't know how she was doing it, but Smoke just kept holding on, keeping her promise to Logan. She assumed it was the tattered remnants of the healing factor; not helping her get any better, but not letting her get any worse - or die.

"Oh my stars and garters! Whatever do you have there? I trust this is - "

To the surprise of Dr Henry Mc Coy - physician and resident genius of this parish - Logan spun swiftly round and stilled his approach with an upraised hand and a sharp hiss. Puzzled, he stopped, and was about to speak again when Logan added another 'shush!' gesture and turned back to the suffering mutant bleeding on the ground before him.

"Smoke? Darlin', the doctor's here. You remember our deal, dontcha?"

*If he is afraid of me, or I am afraid of him, you will let me go*

"Yup."

*You promise, you will let me go?*

Logan thought back uncomfortably to the two previous times she had asked that question. His gut feeling was to answer in the same way; but he had promised, and the Wolverine was a man of his word, if nothing else. He motioned for Hank to come forward slowly.

"Oh my…oh my…you're the one called Smoke, aren't you?" murmured Hank gently, reaching out a huge, clawed hand to touch her head where it rested in Marie's lap. One grey eye regarded him solemnly. To his surprise, he felt a gentle, feather light touch to the edges of his mind; a moment later he felt the tone of touch change from wariness to amusement. Hank looked across at Logan and raised an eyebrow; Logan was looking down at Smoke, who had transferred the intense grey gaze from examining the big, blue furred doctor to regarding her pack leader.

"No fear, right?" he said, with the ghost of a smile.

*No. And I…I am not afraid of him. How strange…perhaps it is the eyes…..*

"So I win?"

*Always.*

Now that we have established that you are going to allow me to care for you and treat your considerable injuries with all the skill I possess, we just have to get you back to the medlab and all the associated highly technical gubbins ensconced therein."

*'Lab'?* The amusement had flickered instantly to anxiety.

"Oh, don't you worry your furry head about it. We have just finished a little addition to the place; a room - designed for our resident master of mayhem, a certain Wolverine of your acquaintance - so that he may feel less threatened by the medical procedures we are forced to retreat to using to patch him up after a particularly drastic session of rough and tumble - " while he was rambling on in his deep, soothing dark brown voice, his hands were nimbly moving over Smoke's ruined body to gauge the extent of her injuries, respiration and heart rate, breaks and burns, tears and rips.

*A room that doesn't look like a lab, yes?*

"Really?" asked Logan, sitting up in surprise.

"You see straight to the heart of my somewhat wordy meanderings, lady Smoke. And yes, Logan, it was supposed to be a gift from our esteemed founder and mentor - "

"'Logan's fix up room', we were going to call it" smiled Marie, through her tears. Logan just hugged her even closer to him, and kissed the top of her head.

"But since your injuries are such that we cannot wait for stretchers and other such manual handling aids and equipment, it appears I will have to carry you there. Although - " he paused, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes speculatively as he regarded the steaming gash in her flank "- it appears we will have to take measures to keep your…well, to put it bluntly, your insides…inside." He shuffled lower, to be able to meet Smoke's one good eye with his own two. "I can give you something to help with the pain, but I cannot deny the facts - this is going to hurt. Like, as your friend there is prone to saying, a son of a bitch."

*It's just pain. Get on with it.*

"Alright then." He nodded firmly, swivelling to his kit to fill a syringe from a vial of morphine. He administered it into the muscle of a hindleg - what was left of it - and turned to the two people watching over their dying friend.

"Marie? Hold on to that head as though your very existence depended upon it, because hers surely does. If you feel you might faint - "

"Ah won't."

"Good girl." He touched her shoulder gently. "You must be brave now, and firm." He turned to Logan. "You must help me, then. When I ask you to lift - "

"Where's Jeannie? Doesn't she normally help you with this sort of thing?" Hank looked away, clearly embarrassed.

"She stated that she was not…a veterinarian…and that she had her husband and…and team members to treat…" He did not say that she had also berated him for not staying with her to treat them, instead of tearing off into the woods to treat - as she put it - a dying stray dog.

"Oh."

"So" all business again "When I say 'lift', lift the hindquarters with one hand, and gently raise the ribcage with the other so that I can get the dressing secured until we reach the medical facility." Noting the look Logan shot Smoke, and the sick expression on his face, Hank added gently, "Yes, it will hurt. No, I am not sure it will work. Yes, it is the only way. I need you to trust me on this, my friend. Are you ready?"

Nods from his two helpers.

"Smoke?"

*Do it.*

"On three, then. One…two…threelift!"

Smoke wailed miserably as her body was lifted in Logan's strong hands and held for Hank to quickly move her insides back within the gaping tear in her body, hold them with the dressing and swiftly secure them with the bandage from the small kit he had brought with him.

"No…no, sweetheart…hold on," came the sound of Marie begging her friend to lie still. She had to grip the scorched and ragged ruff tightly in her fists to prevent the wolf from thrashing her head around in an instinctive reaction to this new, intense agony. All she was getting from her now were jumbled images of pain, fire, confusion and battle - some from now, some from before.

And suddenly, blackness.

"Smoke!" Yelled Marie, shaking the head sharply to get a response.

"Do not worry yourself" rumbled Hank, as he scooped the animal form into his arms and cradled her against his chest, "she is just unconscious, but life is still very much present. We must hurry now, before that vital spark is extinguished." So saying, he began to stride away from them, back towards the mansion.

Logan and Rogue scrambled to their feet to follow the good doctor, who addressed them again as they drew level with him.

"I would very much appreciate it if you two could accompany me until I have at least had the chance to begin to stabilise our new friends condition. I fear my esteemed colleague doctor Grey -"

"Bitch" supplied Marie, in an undertone.

"- quite. She does not appear to welcome the thought that the mutant who did some considerable damage to her ever loving husband will be sharing the same facility, albeit different parts of it. I could really do with some assistance to stave off criticism and debate whilst I try to work."

Logan worked his way through the sentence and grunted agreement.

"You want us to run interference for ya, right?"

"It would be immeasurably helpful, yes."

Marie touched Smoke's face where it hung over Hank's muscular, blue furred arm. Against all the odds, breath could be heard whistling in and out of her throat.

"She is gonna be alright though, isn't she?"

The doctor didn't answer for a moment, and Rogue's heart sank. Logan gave her hand a squeeze.

"I can give you no assurances, Marie, save the undeniable fact that I will, as ever, work to the best of my considerable ability to preserve the life of this individual. But - and I shall give you no untruths - her injuries are grievous indeed, and even with a healing factor, stalled as it is, the prognosis is grave. We must," he finished, picking up the pace, "be swift, or there will be no chance at all."

So saying, they rushed onward toward the mansion, and the waiting medlab.


	12. Lost

Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 12.

Author: Andrea The Mad

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.

Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.

Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.

Rating: R for general unpleasantness, squickiness and quite a bit of bad language. But then, if you're squeamish you probably bailed out ages ago.

Summary: Smoke awakens, and lacks a sense of purpose.

Soundtrack: Thank doG for the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Their new album has been a great help here!

Chapter 12

Lost

Pain. Lots of pain. From insistent burning, to niggling aches, to sharp stabbing crackles. Ouch. Feels like transformation, but a lot longer and…not quite.

Where am I?

Smells sort of like, well, a bit medical-ish. But not entirely. Should I open my eyes? Have I still got eyes? Hmm. Worry about that later. Can't hear anyone in the…well, wherever I am. Sounds small. Can't smell anyone. People been here recently…Him. Her. The blue one. Now that was a surprise. Lots of people around, but…away. Long way away. Quiet in here. Smells quite nice, actually. Flowers. Polish. Beeswax, I think.

OK, time to find out if I still have eyes, and if they still work. Ha! Wouldn't that be funny?

Smoke gingerly opened her eyes and looked around.

Pleasant room, neutral, warm colours on the walls. Wood floor. Dark, russet drapes at the window, currently pulled back to allow the morning sunshine to stream through cheerfully, and play with the dust motes that sparkled above the rug. Bathroom over there. Smells clean - hate a dirty bathroom. Ugh. Definitely medical, but disguised to be, well, not. Friendly.

Oh. Well. OK then. Perhaps they're not all that bad, then. Even so, best have a look around. Find an escape route…just in case.

She sat up, and looked down at herself in the bed.

Ah. Hmm. Arms and legs again, is it? Wonder when that happened? And a drip - she raised her hand and frowned at the catheter pointing out of the back of it - that's coming out. *Rip* Ow. Hate those things. Better tie a knot in that line, or it'll leak all over the damn floor. OK, done. And - looking down, then lifting the covers to see herself - oh my, a nightie. A pink nightie? Someone is going to be in some very deep doo-dahs when I find out who put me in a pink bloody nightdress whilst I was out. Seriously. I mean, pink. Bastards. Oh yeah. 

She made to pull it off over her head, but collapsed back on to the pillows with a faint moan.

Oh, shit! What the hell is wrong with me? I can hardly sodding move!

Pale and sweating, she lifted an arm out of the bed and waved it about vaguely, trying to gauge how much strength and control she had left.

Answer? Not a hell of a lot. Question. What hurts? Everything. Not helpful. Feet - she wiggled them - check. Ouch. Joints and muscles - yup. Ribs - she gave them a poke - oh bloody hell. Ow. Lungs? Deep breath - no, they seem OK. Shoulders, arms, fingers - check, check, check. All present and correct, all bloody sore. So what do I do if someone comes in and tries any funny stuff? I dunno, I could always faint on them. Or puke on them, that's always good.

Her introspection was broken when the door cracked open to admit the considerable blue furry bulk of her doctor, Henry Mc Coy. Painful or not, she flew across the room and backed into the furthest corner, giving him a growl worthy of the Wolverine.

"I'm…I'm not going to hurt you. But it is highly gratifying to see that you are awake and - I see, no drip, why am I not surprised? Please, come out of there and stop growling at me. I really mean you no harm."

Standing there with his hands outstretched to show her he was carrying no weapon, and with honest concern written all over his big blue face, she reluctantly had to admit that she believed him. After all, he appeared to have saved her life. The growling rattled to a halt, although she continued to give him her best come-and-get-bit glare.

"You won't hurt me?"

"On my life and honour, no."

"Good"

And with that, she collapsed into unconsciousness once more.

*****

"She should be - ah yes, there we go. Hello, Smoke? Marie is here, would you like to speak to her? I thought you might be awakening about now, so when she asked if she might visit I acquiesced. If you don't want her to I can always - "

A hand stretches out from the covers, and touches blue lips gently.

"S'ok. Now…..buzz off, huh?"

"Oh. Ah. Alright."

Feet pad quietly away, and the door closes. Smoke stretches - less pain now, just a bit stiff. Good. Someone else beside the bed. Open eyes, blink. Her.

"Hi, how ya feelin'?"

Peek under the covers. Blue pyjamas. Thank god. Sit up, that's better.

"Ah, hello. Much…much better, thanks."

"That's good. You had us all worried there for a moment, y'know? And you scared the bejesus out of Hank when you went and collapsed on him."

"Oh. Sorry about that." Smoke wrinkled her forehead in a frown. "I didn't offend him just now, did I?"

"Nah. He's a good man; he's been cluckin' over you like an old mother hen, been real protective, especially since - "

Marie didn't need to continue. Smoke could feel it all, coming off her in waves; she'd been picking it up through the walls pretty much every time she drifted close to the surface of consciousness. Jean, who else? She'd spent the whole time smouldering about the mutant who'd thrown the whole place into chaos; upset her best friend, assaulted her husband and - worst of all - seemed to have brought Rogue and the Wolverine closer together. That had really upset her. She didn't necessarily want Logan; oh no, she just didn't want anyone else to have him.

"I don't like her. She hasn't been…treating me, has she?"

"No. Hank's been keeping her clear. He only got a bit upset once; apparently it was her that suggested the pink nightdress. You've been fretting about that for two days - couldn't stop muttering about it, despite being asleep."

"Oh" tears sprang to her eyes "poor man. He seems so…nice. And poor Jean, really; she's so unsure of herself, that's why she's so…well…"

"Bitchy?"

"Um. Yeah. It must be horrible to hate yourself so much you hate everyone else too. Mind you," and here a thoughtful frown appeared on her face, "Just because I understand it, does not mean I have to like it!"

"Good for you, sugah. Now, to the real reason for my visit; the Professor wasn't sure if you'd be feeling up to a visit from him so he sent me with some messages. First: you're OK staying here with us?"

Smoke's eyes went very wide, and she scooted lower under the covers.

"In the…you know? The, uh, mansion? Oh. Well. Ah. Too many people. Uh - "

"It's OK." Marie laid her hand gently over Smoke's where it was fretfully plucking at the bedspread, "Not in the mansion. There's a little cottage thing - used to belong to the gamekeeper - it's being renovated for you now."

"For me? Why?"

"Cause you're one of us, sugah. Now, don't cry - really - all that, y'know, other stuff that happened? That was all our fault. We dragged you down here and expected you just to cope. 'Ro gave the Prof and Logan hell for that, let me tell you. Then the Prof gave Jubes and Gumbo seven shades of shinola about scarin' you off. Man, you shoulda been there - "

"Rogue - "

"Shush. You feeling strong enough to get out of bed? Cause I thought you might like to take a walk around, if you're feeling up to it."

Smoke gave up. Welcome back to the world, I guess. These Americans - excitable lot. I don't think I'll ever fit in but hey - ugh, that speech pattern is infective, I'm sure - She's OK, and He's alright, the Man In Charge is English and means well, and the Big Blue Doctor is nice, but what about the rest of them? Red Hair hates you. Yellow Dress isn't keen, and that one She called…Gumbo? How odd…he's just scary. And they want me to stay? Maybe they won't mind if I just sort of…of mooch about a bit. Bark at intruders. Howl at the moon a bit.

A great wave of loneliness and - be honest with yourself, girl - self pity just came roaring out of nowhere and flattened any fledgling self confidence beginning to show a fang in Smoke's battered soul.

"No, I…please, leave me be for a bit. I'll be fine, honest. It was very kind of you to come visit. Please thank everyone. Please -"

Marie could see, and feel, that things were about to get out of hand again. Time for a tactical withdrawal. She rose to go, patting her friend's trembling hand gently.

"OK, but if you need me, just ask Hank. He can find me." Smiling kindly at Smoke - who had progressed to just staring at the wall and shaking - she gently eased herself out the door, and walked swiftly to a small conference room where Logan, Hank, and Professor Xavier were waiting. 

"How'd it go?" asked Logan, opening his arms to her. She took refuge in them, and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I can only assume from our friends' slightly worried countenance that things did not go as well as could have been hoped." Hank looked glum.

Marie leaned back from Logan's chest and took a deep breath before turning to face the others.

"She's scared. I'm having a really hard time getting through to her; I think it's the idea of just lurking about here that's bothering her so much. I mean, who wants to feel useless?" Marie sighed sadly, causing Logan to pull her into him even more tightly. He kissed the top of her head gently, then cocked an eyebrow at Xavier.

"Chuck? You're a Brit - do you know anything that might help? Cos I'm stumped. I got her here - you said you could help her. Can you? Or should I just take her back up into those mountains and turn her loose?"

Xavier looked uncomfortable for a moment. 

"You're right, Logan; we may have badly miscalculated how we handled the whole episode," Logan met Hank's gaze and rolled his eyes at the Professors cavalier use of the word 'we' in this context, "but I feel I might have an idea of how to handle the current crisis. Are we all still determined to help this poor lost soul?"

"You hafta ask?"

"Sure thing, sugah."

"You have my word, as a scientist and as an X-Man."

"Good."

********


	13. Transition Phase

Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 13.

Author: Andrea The Mad

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.

Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.

Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.

Rating: R for general unpleasantness, squickiness and quite a bit of bad language. But then, if you're squeamish you probably bailed out ages ago.

Summary: In which Smoke is reassured, her friends prepare her house, Logan gets frustrated and Jubilee learns not to tease the wildlife.

Chap13

Transition Phase

Dr Henry McCoy, 'Hank' to his friends, was finishing off some small tasks around the medlab and worrying. Or perhaps fretting would be a better word. He cocked his head and pursed his lips for a moment, regarding the ceiling solemnly; yes, he decided, fretting definitely described it better.

Their little team had settled upon a plan of action which would - they hoped - settle Smoke's fears and induct her into their midst if not happily, then at least with her mind intact. Logan and Marie were out doing their part; the Professor had retired to his office to complete his, leaving Hank to pluck up the courage to try and break one important barrier, and therefore set their new friend on the road to recovery. Mentally, he reminded himself, as her healing factor had her in superb shape physically. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the covered tray by the door and made his way down the hall to Smoke's room.

As he came into the room on her quiet reply to his knock, he pulled up short in surprise. She was leaning on the window frame, looking out over the grounds; what had startled him was that this was the first time he had seen her out of bed. He smiled at her.

"Doctor McCoy" she smiled back at him.

"Smoke!" he beamed "It is indeed good to see you out of bed under your own steam and at your own volition. It bodes well for your recovery."

She chuckled at him, and shook her head ruefully.

"I suppose you mean that it's time I got my lazy butt out of my pit."

"Not at all. Considering what a series of massive shocks we have all put you through - all unintentionally, I might add - I think you are coping remarkably well. In fact, that ties in rather neatly with my mission here this morning."

"Mission?" She gave him a small frown.

"Food. Not to put too fine a point on it, when did you last eat? Because it has undoubtedly been far too long. Am I right?"

Try as she might, she couldn't hide a small smile from him.

"Couple of days before…He…found me. I've been drinking plenty, though. Honest."

"That I know. But there is a distinct limit to what I can do for you with glucose drinks! So, thinking that you might find American food a little unfamiliar, or perhaps associated with unpleasant memories, I have indulged myself in an extensive web search, spoken at great length with the professor, argued with the chef and - voila!"

He pulled the cover from the plate with a flourish, and Smoke's eyes widened with surprise at the aromas that coiled from the steaming plate.

"Is it Sunday?" she whispered, then pulled a face at the arrant stupidity of the question.

"No. But I understand your question; this sort of meal is traditionally associated with Sunday lunch in England, is it not? Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots…horseradish sauce…gravy…my dear, have I left anything out?"

Smoke flung herself at the blue furry doctor and hugged him hard, tears clouding her vision. She sniffed hard, then held him at arm's length and regarded him gravely.

"It's perfect. I can eat this. Will you join me?"

Hank beamed again. The professor had been right; familiarity was what this poor wight craved and providing it was an important first step. He regarded her with deep satisfaction as she began sampling the food before her; and as a smile began to spread out across her face, he could not help but answer it with one of his own.

*****

"We nearly done, sugah?" called Rogue from where she was arranging the last few supplies from the kitchen.

"Yeah. Hope the poor kid appreciates all this." Logan stalked in to join his mate, stopping behind her and burying his head in the angle her neck made with her shoulder and inhaling her sweet, spicy scent. He gripped her hips in his large hands and rumbled sweet nothings against her throat; she responded by giving a little moan of her own and leaning back into his broad, warm chest.

"Not here…I know we're supposed to be making this place smell familiar but…" Logan growled with frustration as she twisted away from him. Honestly, he agreed with her; but it seemed like everyone in the place was conspiring to keep them from having any private time together. 

Yeah, sure, they were sleeping together; just that, sleeping. What with 'extra training', updating the mansion's security systems - now that had to be a bunch of crapola; the computers were spot on and between him and the wolf, Xavier had the two best sets of mutie senses on the continent on site - the Professor's project for Smoke was rapidly becoming the final straw. He wasn't about to insist on anything when his beautiful Marie was tired out of her mind, but he had needs for chrissakes!

She sighed with disappointment as she moved away from him, then turned back, twisted her hands into his hair and whispered seductively in his ear, "I know, Sugah... I want ya just as bad... and if I don't get ya soon, I'm just gonna hafta jump ya at breakfast."

He groaned deeply and shut his eyes. Now that was an image he could really have done without. Sweeping cutlery and crockery off the table with a crash…Marie jumping on to the table and tearing his shirt open…pulling him down and and opening his jeans with swift and practiced movements, her mouth hot on his...bellowing with delight as they finally fulfilled their desire in full view of the shocked staff and students…

"Logan? Logan! Say something, sugah, if it's only goodbye!"

He opened his eyes to find his beloved grinning at him and shaking with laughter. He groaned deeply and crushed her to him with a sigh; yeah, they really, really had to get some private time. Before he lost his mind. She laughed again, wriggled out of his grasp and held him at arms length.

"C'mon. We're done in here. Now for the outside."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the door. As they left the house, Logan noticed a puzzling detail to the doors; long handles. Marie saw the direction of his small frown and filled him in.

"Easier for paws." Oh. Right. 

Once outside, they walked the small garden that surrounded the cottage. The idea was that Smoke would be able to relax here if it only smelled of the very few people she had come to trust - Logan and Marie, mainly. No-one else was to enter this small 'zone' without her explicit permission; it was to be a safe house, place of refuge, whatever she needed to bring her slowly into their little society.

Marie spotted Logan facing one of the bushes and beginning to unbutton his jeans. She just stared for a moment, jaw slack in astonishment.

"Logan!" she yelled, blushing bright crimson.

"Yeah?" he answered, over his shoulder.

"WHAT are you doing? I mean - there's a bathroom in the house!"

He gave her a look which could best be described as 'old fashioned'.

"Marking the territory."

"NOT like THAT you're not. What are you thinkin'?" She felt like she was blushing from her toes to the top of her head - any hotter and she's explode. Logan cocked an eyebrow at her, sighed and zipped up.

"Bad idea?"

"Yeah!"

"Too much?"

"Sugah, you have NO ideah …"

"Oh."

"Just…just…do something else, will ya?"

And with that, she fled, face still flaming. Logan sighed again, shook his head, and followed her.

Jeesus. Women.

*******

Smoke had finished her late lunch, and sat back to regard her doctor carefully.

"That was wonderful. Thank you, doctor."

"Hank, please!"

"Ah…no. It's…an English thing. Perhaps in ten years or so."

He sighed sadly. The Professor had warned him that this might be the case; it would take her a long time to relate to most of them as friends, non-threatening people. Relating to them all as ideas - Alpha male, Alpha female, Good Doctor, Red Doctor, The Yellow One, Man In Charge and the various other identities she had created for them would be easier for now. Even so, he felt a real affinity for his little patient and it saddened him that she couldn't be as easy with him as many of his other patients were.

"Give me time, doctor. I'll get there."

He looked at her in surprise; she had leaned across the table and gently patted his hand, eyes full of emotion. Of course.

"I will confess, I had forgotten about the empathy. But thank you, Smoke; your response gives me a great deal of hope that we will eventually be able to help the way - well, the way we should have done from the beginning."

He shook his head ruefully.

"Anyway, I have something else I would like to discuss with you. Do you remember Rogue mentioning a house?"

She nodded, eyes never leaving his.

"It is all prepared for you. It is all yours - you don't have to share it, you don't have to let any of us in there if you don't want us there. Only Logan and Rogue have been inside to prepare it for you and to make it all just so. We have designed it especially for your - unique - needs, long handles on the doors and so on and so forth. Would you like to go there?"

Smoke looked out of the window and frowned slightly.

"You can go in any form you like. If you would be happier in your coat of silver fur, then please feel completely free to explore the property in that form. No-one will hurt or inconvenience you, I can assure you that you will be quite safe here. What do you say?"

"No-one minds me wandering around like that?"

"No-one."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Where is it?"

"Logan said - and I quote - 'tell her to follow her nose north. When she smells me an' Marie, there it is.' A little vague, I know, but he claimed that it would be enough for your remarkable abilities. I would imagine he will be lurking around in the woods somewhere to give you a little guidance. How do you feel?"

He experienced a brief wave of emotion from her - a feeling, for the first time, of excitement. 

"I can go now?"

"If you like."

She stood up, then hesitated, flinging Hank a sideways glance. Aware of her shyness about transforming in front of people, he raised his hands and swivelled around so that his back was to her. From what Logan and the Professor had told him, he was glad to. Doctor or not, the sound of flesh flowing and connective tissue grinding it's way to a new position was a decidedly queasy one. He turned to her when the noises stopped.

"Better?"

*Oh yes*

"Would you mind walking out through the building with me? It will do you good to see it from a - ahem - somewhat calmer perspective than the last time you passed through these halls."

He felt her acceptance, and they left the room together.

*******

*These people…they're not afraid of me*

Hank had to smile at the feeling of wonder that coloured her mental imagery.

"Believe me or no, you are far from the strangest thing that has ever roamed these corridors of learning. And, stop me if I am wrong, but you are not giving them cause to be afraid, are you? Here, you see, you are just one of us…another mutant."

One of the students they were passing looked up from her computer and waved at them, smiling cheerfully.

"Hi Hank, Hi Smoke. Hank, can you give me a hand with this program later? It's all buggy, and I can't seem to find where they're hiding…"

"I certainly shall, Kitty. I will be with you as soon as I can." She nodded and went back to staring at her monitor. Hank had to smile when he saw Smoke frozen next to him, apparently in shock.

*She…said hello. She knew my name. She…is not afraid*

"I know."

*Wow*

"Come on. The exit is just up here, then you can stretch your legs and gallop off some of that tension. That's bound to feel good, am I right?"

Smoke just snorted, shook her coat, and followed him up the short flight of stairs.

Moments later, they were standing at the doors of the mansion, Smoke inhaling the scents of the winter afternoon and feeling the wind ruffling her coat.

"There you go. If you want anything - anything at all - I have no doubt you could find your way back to my office. Or ask a student…anyone. If it feels right, just sit out here and vocalise to your heart's content - I'm sure someone will come and get me. But feel free to explore - take your time and most of all -" here he peered earnestly into her eyes "- don't worry about anything. All will be well."

She looked at him for a second, then did something unexpected. She suddenly reared up on her hind legs, placed both forepaws on his shoulders, and gave him a long, wet lick right up one side of his face. Before he could get over the surprise, she had streaked away, toward the far line of trees, leaving him with a lingering feeling of…freedom. That was it.

He started as someone came up behind him and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"How's it going, Hankster? You making some progress?"

"Do you know, Bobby," turning to face his friend with a wide smile across his expressive features, "I really think that we might be."

*******

Pacing quietly around the edges of the extensive lawns surrounding the mansion, Smoke suddenly stiffened and lifted her head as the breeze brought her a familiar - and unwelcome - scent. The Yellow One. Still, she mulled to herself, she does live here, and we will have to encounter each other…so best we make peace now.

Jubilee hove in sight, chattering away excitedly on her mobile phone. An idea began to shape itself in Smoke's mind; she kept pace with Jubilee and ran the details through until they seemed about perfect. 

"And I said 'That's like, so totally out there, dude' and….I gotta go. Call you back, OK?" 

Most of the mansion's residents would have been amazed at the speed with which Jubilee switched off and stowed her mobile phone. She was, after all, famous for causing the Professor, Scott and Wolverine all to lose their cool with her in one day; for running up an astronomical bill, interfering with the Blackbird's avionics by taking a call, and having her beloved mobile ring in the middle of a self-defence class, respectively. Logan's ire had been further stirred by the fact that he had frisked her before allowing her into the lesson; as he later roared at the Professor, himself less than pleased with Jubilee's lack of restraint: "I ain't conductin' no strip search on a girl that age!"

What had caused the sudden halt to her absolutely-life-or-death-situation call was the sight of a large, black and silver animal sitting quietly in an alcove in the bushes some distance away. Watching her. Watching her with an intensity that caused Jubes to suddenly swallow hard as she realised that help was much, much further away than the animal that had every reason to wish her harm.

"Hey…ahhhh…y'know that…that thing with the…y'know…it was an accident, yeah?"

*I know*

"Soooooooo….no ill will, and all that crapola?"

*Come a little closer*

Despite all her instincts yelling at her not to, Jubilee edged closer, cracking her gum nervously.

"This isn't gonna be, like, see what big teeth you've got?"

*Sort of*

And with that, Smoke launched herself into an attack.

Jubilee flung herself backwards, letting out a startled yelp as her field of vision was filled with snapping teeth, swirling mane, and madddened grey eyes. She lifted an arm to protect her face, too scared to summon a firecracker; then realised that she wasn't, actually, being torn apart.

*Scary, huh?*

Jubilee lay quietly on her back, looking up at the rapidly darkening evening sky.

"I think…I think…I've swallowed my gum. Gross." She sat up, glaring at Smoke who was quietly sitting in the position she had been in before, regarding her with those pale grey eyes.

"Soooooo…are you plannin' on doing that again? 'Cause if you are, I need clean panties."

*No. Not unless you give me a reason*

"I get it, chica. I don't scare the shit out of you, you don't rip my throat out - am I right?"

*Clever girl*

Jubes peered into the gloom, hoping to give Smoke a piece of her mind for that condescending comment; only to discover that she had already left the scene. She sighed, and scrambled to her feet, dusting herself down.

"Jeez Lou-eeze! Where does the Wolvster find these psychos? Shouldn't be freakin' allowed….gad, hope I don't see anyone…" So grumbling, Jubilee headed back to her room - and clean underwear.


	14. And Last

Title: Child Of The Snows Chapter 14.

Author: Andrea The Mad

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.co.uk - good, bad and ugly welcome. But if you hate it, at least try and be polite.

Disclaimer: Only Smoke belongs to me, a fact she is unlikely to let me forget. Everyone else belongs to Marvel - please don't sue me, I'm skint.

Archive Rights: DDFH - where else? But if you want it, just ask.

Rating: R for general unpleasantness, squickiness and quite a bit of bad language. But then, if you're squeamish you probably bailed out ages ago.

Summary: Smoke settles in, Remy makes a mistake he will never repeat, Marie needs a favour - and we meet two old friends……

Chapter 14

And Last

Pacing quietly through the silent grounds of the mansion, Smoke had time to consider all that she had been through so far. Quite exciting, really. It felt good to be finally free; after all, she had no reason to disbelieve them when they assured her she would be left alone within the grounds, and that they were a safe haven from the madness outside. She missed her home - more than anyone could know - but was beginning to realise that this place could be an acceptable substitute, at least for a little while.

She paused, lifting her muzzle to taste the scents of the chill, early winter night; sure enough and as expected, He was out there. Best find him and pay your respects, she thought to herself calmly; the land may - in human terms - belong to the Professor but it was His hunting ground. And it was never polite to move across a territory without paying your respects to their master and making clear your intentions.

She found him, leaning against a tree and contemplatively smoking one of his cigars, sending blue rings of scented smoke up to encircle the crescent moon where it could be glimpsed through the branches. Sensing that he was, at this moment, relaxed and at peace with both his surroundings and the night around him, she settled herself onto the cold ground to await his attention. Whilst she watched him she wondered if his mate had ever seen him thus; she had seen the wild, the furious, the confused, and even - she suspected - the afraid facets of his complicated nature, but perhaps had never been present to witness the sure and certain power of the Wolverine in his own place. Finally fixing his gaze upon her, he crouched down on his heels and held out one hand.

"C'mere Smoke," he said softly. She rose and moved into his touch, rubbing her back along his outstretched hand and leaning her head into his chest. He encircled her neck with his strong arms, and breathed in the faintly musky scent of her coat. For a while he held her so, two wild things at peace with their surroundings, both giving and getting reassurance and comfort. They separated then, and he regarded her seriously.

"You gonna be all right, kid?" he finally asked, softly.

*Do you know something? I really think I am* she replied into his mind. Then, almost slyly, *and your mate? The situation proceeds well?*

"Hmmm…well, you've got a lot to answer for there, darlin'…but yeah, it 'proceeds'. If the X - geeks will ever give us some damn space."

*Perhaps…if things do not improve…I may be able to help you*

She flashed him a wicked image, then; one that made him fling back his head and laugh out loud for the joy of it.

"Darlin', I might just take you up on that!"

He put his forehead against hers and rumpled the fur of her ruff affectionately.

"You want to go see your place, then?"

*Definitely*

"C'mon then…if you think you can keep up, that is…"

He set off into the tress at a swift, silent pace; leaving a mocking growl in her wake, Smoke followed him.

Home.

*******

It was a week later. The mansion inhabitants had become used to Smoke ghosting around the grounds, and even seen her a few times trotting through the corridors towards either the Professor's office or down to see Hank - always late at night. It was really beginning to feel as though she was part of the scenery; as though she truly belonged there.

One of the residents in particular had noticed the way she moved, silent and graceful in the form of a wolf, and decided it may be of use to him in his less…acceptable forms of recreation.

As Jean stitched his torn arm, with Hank observing darkly from a corner, Remy explained the woeful circumstance leading to his presence at the medical facility. It had begun much, much earlier that evening.

"Who is it?" Called Smoke fearfully. She was becoming used to being here, but still got quite nervous around people when in her human form, as she was currently.

"Don't be afraid, p'tite - 'tis only Remy, come to see how you settlin' in."

Tightening the belt of her robe around her - after a particularly embarrassing incident which had made poor Hank blush a very fetching shade of purple, she always remembered to put some clothes on before greeting visitors - she opened her front door to regard the individual waiting at the gate in the low fence which surrounded her garden. No-one came through or over that gate without her permission; the community had been warned that this would be regarded as a border violation, and would be met with deadly force. Probably. So best to ask first, right? 

"I'm fine."

There was a pause whilst Remy decided how far he could push her, and she waited to see what he wanted.

"Could Remy come in, chere? He used to de heat of de south, an' all this cold air be bad for him." He lit one of his ever present cigarettes and watched her carefully from red-on-black eyes to see how she would react. No-one had entered her little haven apart from Hank, Rogue, and Wolverine; they weren't talking, and Remy did so hate a secret.

"No. I don't trust you. You hurt me, once - no one gets a second chance."

"Aah, you wound Remy. He jus' tryin' to be friendly, don' you see dat?" He spread his arms and gave her his best 'wounded innocent' look.

"Nope. So why don't you tell me what you want? Then we can both get in the warm." She was finding the hard tone difficult to maintain; he was, after all, an awfully attractive man, and did seem to be…interested in her. I'm nineteen years old, she thought with an internal sigh, and I've never even been seriously kissed. Not that I'd kiss him, of course, but…he is an awfully smooth talker.

"You heard bad stories about Remy? From de X-Men? Dey say you can't trust him, no?" He shivered. She looked unmoved. "Well, dey disapprove of how ol' Remy have to survive on de streets. He be a t'ief, you see."

"And?"

"He miss de excitement."

"Yes?"

"He need a partner. Someone who can move like de wind, silent as - smoke. Someone who feel de call of de wild, who needs to run free, a true spirit of adventure…" talking softly of adventures, excitement, wildness and fun, Remy had slowly stepped over the gate whilst he held Smoke's gaze. Before she realised it, he was standing right in front of her, long trenchcoat blowing to envelop her, his breath tickling her cheek, head bent over hers and strange, red eyes boring into her grey. She gasped, and made to step away; his hands touched her arms lightly, so lightly…gently caressing up and down, soothing and gentling, stilling her motion.

"He want you, Lady of De Darkness, Mistress Smoke…Remy want you…" he dipped his head to hers and captured her lips gently, gently, teasing her with their softness and warmth.

Smoke was about ready to agree to anything. He had managed to stir all sorts of emotions she never even knew she had, let alone had chance to use; he had played her like she was a fine instrument, and he a master musician. Except, of course, he had forgotten something.

She suddenly felt, above his feelings of desire and the burning of want, an ugly little thread of triumph. A nasty little picture from the back of his mind, involving a notch on a bedpost and a short, triumphant statement to her respected, beloved Logan:

"You not so tough, amie. Now Remy, he tame de savage beast where de Wolverine fail!"

She flung him back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Cherie? What de matter? You no wan' Remy no more?"

At that, her gaze hardened and she flung off her robe. Gambit's eyes widened with delight as he took in her shapely form; he began to move back towards her, but halted in horror as her form began to flow into another just as magnificent, but far more deadly.

"Get. Away. From."

*ME!*

Remy realised his error, and despite knowing the warnings - climb a tree. Find a stick. But never, never try to outrun a wolf - he turned and fled. Smoke chased him, determined to ensure that this time, he really did get the message.

He stumbled and fell, all his usual grace deserting him; not because he was being chased - that had happened to him many times in the past - but because his pursuer kept nipping in, slashing at him with her deadly teeth, and darting out again.

He was being played with. Toyed with.

Hunted.

And it made him afraid.

Finally, the lights of the mansion came into sight, and he knew, just knew, that he was a few paces from safety. She wouldn't dare attack him there, would she? He began to slacken his desperate pace when he felt a great blow to his shoulder that threw him flat on his face.

He laid still for a second, inching his hand towards a card in order to charge it up, and surprise her when she rolled him over.

Nothing. One minute, two. Then ten.

Twenty.

Finally realising that the last strike had been the final one, he rolled cautiously to his knees, and, seeing nothing, rose to his feet. When he tried to dust himself down, he realised why he was feeling so cold. Every item of clothing he had on - bar none - had been ripped, or torn, or shredded. Great bruises were beginning to flower on his pale skin where some of her strikes had been somewhat less than surgical, and he had also acquired a fine set of scrapes and cuts from his mad dash. Sighing, he turned towards the mansion.

And spotted her, sitting there as cool as you like, not ten feet from him.

Neither of them said a word. What could he say? Sorry?

Another swift movement; and before he could even flinch, he was flat on the ground again - on his back this time - staring aghast at the bloodied mess that had been his forearm not two minutes before.

*It looks worse than it is*

"Ahhh, chere…."

*Go. Just go. And never, NEVER, make that mistake with me again.*

A face appeared above his, eyes piercing.

*Or it will be the last mistake you ever make*

When he finally staggered to his feet some time later, she had gone.

**********

"Hey! Smoke! Sugah, you in?"

It was the following morning, and Marie had decided to get to the bottom of the rumour that was sweeping the mansion - and ask for a favour of her own.

A face appeared at the front door, followed by the rest of her friend's form securely hidden beneath a bathrobe.

"Come on in"

"Thanks" Marie hopped over the gate, and within five minutes was comfortably curled on Smoke's sofa with a steaming mug of tea pressed into her hands. She had to admit, she was developing quite an affection for English tea served the English way; another of the Professor's 'familiarisation' tactics. It also helped Smoke's confidence to be able to offer her visitors a beverage that she recognised, and they did not.

"So" she bagan, taking a sip, "What's all this ah hear about Remy nearly getting his balls chewed off last night?"

Smoke actually gave a snort of laughter.

"Nowt that drastic. I just…showed him the error of his ways."

"You sho' did that. I've never seen him so damn pale."

"Ha!"

They spent a few minutes in companionable silence, sipping their tea and crunching a few biscuits.

"OK, so what would you like to ask me?" said Smoke, finally. Marie laughed.

"How didja know?" 

Her friend tapped the side of her nose.

"Smelt it."

"Damn! You're as bad as Logan!"

"So?"

So Marie explained. How she and Logan had become lovers - after a fashion - but that they were not being given any peace to enjoy some - how to put this? - quality time. Heavy petting was as far as it had got, and they were both beginning to feel the pressure.

"Logan's even been talkin' about leavin' - " noting the stricken look on her friend's face, Marie smiled and leaned forward to pat her hand "- don't worry, ah don't want to go either. It's mah home, you know?"

Smoke nodded. Marie added that whilst she felt the powers-that-be meant well, they were misguided in their belief that she just had a teenage crush on Logan; she was also sure that, if they had their noses sufficiently rubbed in the fact of this relationship, they'd accept it.

"So…Logan said you'd offered to help?"

"Yup. Whatever you need."

"Feel up to being fierce?"

"Absolutely."

"Right. So this is what we'll do…"

*********

It was not, in itself, an unusual sight.

A large, wolf like animal, laying quite still in front of a door, apparently on guard.

What was unusual, however, were the noises coming from behind that door, and the gathering crowd of anxious people in the hallway.

"It's important you let us speak to them!" snapped Scott, feeling absolutely furious that his wishes were being ignored. He was even more upset that Jean didn't appear to be backing him up; she and Smoke had simply exchanged a glance, nodded, then his wife had departed with a tap on his arm and a mental wish of "good luck"….he didn't understand it, and he didn't like it.

*No. It is not important. Go away*

"Now look here - " one step closer. The statue that had been lying so still became animated; Scott found himself staring straight down about a yard of hot throat, fringed with snapping, deadly fangs. Even through his visor - not a pretty sight. He stepped back one pace, and she stilled.

*Go. Away.*

"Jubilee! Get that lock off that door!" Scott's temper was beginning to wear thin. At a roar of:

"Oh! Yes! Oh baby, do that again….sooooo…good……ah!"

-he turned to Jubilee and practically spat "Now, dammit!"

Jubilee and Smoke shared a long look.

"Not me, boss. Sounds like the chica's having a waaaaaaay cool time in there - an I ain't crossin the bouncer, capish?" she cracked her gum loudly, making Smoke flinch and Scott jump, then turned and made her way down the corridor to her own room.

(Ah - just like - *crash* - *giggle* - oh, darlin'…do that again….)

Scott couldn't believe it. He glared at the junior team members who had accumulated to watch the scene - Smoke vs Fearless Leader - with the backdrop of Wolverine And Rogue Getting Their Oats…quite a show.

"Remy!"

(Oh!…OH…..yes, sugah, yes!)

The cajun raised his eyebrows in surprise when Scott barked out his name. He pointed to himself - with his good hand - and sent a questioning look.

"Yes! You! Will you help me?"

Again that long, long look exchanged with Smoke. He raised his hands in a negative gesture, and shook his head firmly.

(Oh - mah - GAWWWWWWD……….oh, Logan….)

"De chere an' Remy, we have dis understandin'. Helpin' you…dat not covered. Remy goin' for a beer now - why don' you join him?"

Scott practically sputtered. Remy shrugged, then turned to Smoke.

"De offer still dere, p'tite…if you wan' it."

She inclined her head gracefully, then watched him leave.

(The squeak of bedsprings, and the groan of floorboards.)

"What the devil is going on here? Scott? I'm sure I heard Scott here somewhere, he will be bound to know - oh my stars and garters, Smoke! What on earth-?"

Hanks questions were interrupted by the sound of screaming from behind the guarded door - loud enough to rattle windowpanes, they were not screams of pain, nor fright; they were, however, clear enough to silence all discussion outside the doorway. Scott's shoulders slumped. He might as well give up.

Defeated by the combined forces of love, loyalty, and lust. He sighed.

*Not a bad combination to lose to, is it?*

Good point. He was about to begin arguing again when Ororo silently glided up behind him, nodded gracefully to Smoke, slipped an arm through his and began to steer him down the corridor, ushering their wayward students before them. She could be heard gently reassuring her friend that things would undoubtedly unfold as they were meant to….eventually.

Smoke and Hank just looked at each other.

"Time for me to leave?"

*Sorry to drag you up here*

"Everyone needs a friend from time to time, and I am glad to know that you trust me enough to call on me when you feel the pressure getting too much."

*Thanks. Thought One-Eye was going to burst a blood vessel*

"He nearly did"

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Logan's form appearing in the doorway, sweaty, rumpled - and wearing nothing but a small towel. Even Hank's nostrils flared a little at the aroma flowing from the superheated room before him.

Smoke sneezed.

"Ah…I…must go…I…see you later, Smoke."

Hank fled.

"Think you've solved our problem for us?" Logan crouched down, lowered his forehead to hers and rumpled her mane gently.

*If I have not, then my services are always available*

"Thanks darlin'"

*By the way-*

"Yeah?"

*Are bondings always this….noisy?*

"Only" grinned Logan, gripping a cigar between his teeth and lighting it, "when you are trying to prove a point."

************

"Sugah? Look down there."

Marie was staring down at the great sweep of lawn that could be seen from their window.

"Damn. They found her…"

It was snowing; the sort of snow that promises a thick white coat come the dawn, to sparkle and dance in the sun, and crunch beneath the feet. Playing in it, rolling and revelling, was Smoke.

And two big, rangy dogs that looked as though they had travelled a long, long way.

"She looks happy."

"That she does. You wanna come back to bed now?"

"You're insatiable!"

"It's the healin' factor…."

Through the snow, the dogs and their protector played until the sun came up over the horizon.

They had all come home.

THE END.


End file.
